Hetalia - The Kirklands and the Vorpal Blade
by Lollipoplou
Summary: Short story taking place before Hetalia - Of Magic and Might. Things are afoot in the Elder Grove. Sorcerers are going missing, a horde of goblins rallying. Will Arthur Kirkland alongside his brothers; Allistor, Seamus and Dylan be able to stop the sinister plot that threatens Arthur's terrible secret? It's a race against time and no one can be trusted, not even your own kin.
1. Chapter 1 - The Beginning

Hetalia - The Kirklands and the Vorpal Blade

Ayo! So this is a short story featuring the Kirkland brothers in the driving seat and one of their many adventures together. **If you are new to the series, I advise you go read my** **Hetalia - Of Magic and Might** and **Hetalia - The Cold of War** first to have a better understanding of the world and references.

The story setting takes place roughly three months before Emperor Ivan seized the throne and enacted the sorcery purge. Magic is more predominant in the world and the sorcerers' community has broken down and become divided into multiple clans, each more or less led by one of the former council elders.

After that background explanation, I now present Hetalia - The Kirklands and the Vorpal Blade,

Enjoy!

* * *

The floating Isle the Elder Grove, South, Up a tree several metres away from a Goblin Scout Encampment

Springtime had sprung in the Elder Grove. Trees swayed breezily in the clean air and filtered scattered warm sunlight through their green leaves. Baby new wild flowers of bluebell and dandelion blossomed to create fields of colour and beauty and the forest was alive with cheerful birdsong. Woodland animals rose from their long hibernation and even the neurotic deer showed little fear as it pranced peacefully through the trees to the bubbling stream. Yes, it was a time of hope and joy, though not for the young sorcerer that stealthily watched the newly erected goblin camp.

Looking around the age of sixteen, Arthur Kirkland lay flat on his stomach on the thick tree branch with his spyglass pressed to his eye. Wearing his family's signature deep green cloak, Arthur's skin was lightly tanned and his golden hair was white in places from his recent time spent adventuring on a pirate ship. He carried only a hunting knife on his lower back, having it be the only weapon on him when his fae friends had warned him about the increased goblin numbers. As he peered, Arthur hissed in irritation when he saw that the goblins had indeed risen in number since the last time he had attempted to swipe out the camp. The impish creatures carried spears and wicked looking blades on their hips as they milled about their fire pit and narrowly kept watch.

Arthur tutted his annoyance as he lowered his spyglass. He did not feel confident enough take another stab at the camp, not even under the cover of night. He'd need to lay traps if he was going to take them out and— Arthur froze mid thought as he felt a gentle ripple of disturbance lap against his consciousness... Someone had bypassed his detection boundary lines, stepped into his area of the forest. They had undone his warding so skilfully, that Arthur had near missed the resulting flux in his magic. Arthur tucked his spyglass into his utility belt and shifted himself into a crouching perch, ready to run if need be, and thought about his options.

The goblin camp was further to his south and full of goblin warriors that were pissed off with him. Behind him, someone was out there, possibly waiting for him. He was not dressed nor prepared for combat, all his weapons were back at his treehouse including his light armour. All he had on him right now was his small pouch of coins, his spyglass and his hunting knife. Hm, today was not the day to fight. His best option was to retreat back to his treehouse and pray he didn't run into the intruders on the way.

Arthur braced himself to run, when a red feathered arrow skimmed past his cheek. He snapped his head down and cursed when he saw three sneering goblins staring up at him in his tree. One had a ram's horn in it's hand and brought it to it's mouth, and blew hard. The horn's blast echoed loudly and Arthur hissed as his position was given away. The whole bloody camp would be on his tail now. With the balance and agility of a cat, Arthur spun and ran along his branch to leap onto the next of a different tree. The goblins shrieked excitedly as they gave chase below as he leapt and jumped from tree to tree.

An arrow lodged itself inches away from Arthur's foot, shocking him out of his focused free-running mode and caused his foot to slip. Arthur cried out as he fell and landed hard on his side, gasping as the wind was knocked out of him. He lay temporarily paralysed as his body refused to move, completely numb from the shock. Shit.

His pursuers nastily laughed as they surrounded him. Arthur groaned as he tried to shakily raise, only to be knocked back down by one of the goblin's cubs and pinned.

"If it isn't the little rut that attacked us!" One taunted as he ground Arthur's head into the ground with his heel.

"Not very scary, are ya? Not much without your bows and arrows?"

"What should we do with him? Pull his teeth out? Cut off his ears?" Another cackled as he grabbed Arthur by the hair and wrenched his head back, exposing his neck to the goblin's blade. The sharp edge pressed threateningly against the tight skin.

One of the other goblins quickly wrenched the knife back and Arthur silently gasped in relief. "No! We bring him to camp. Those were the orders!" The goblin with a scar over his eye growled and the two looked at him enraged.

"But, but he killed half the camp! He deserves to suffer!".

"An' he will. But we won't get the reward if it's who the boss is looking for". The other two goblins groaned at the sound reasoning and after a moment of consideration, stepped off Arthur.

"Fine, bind him an' we'll drag him back". Arthur grunted as his arms were forced behind his back and one of the goblins took off it's belt to use it to bind his forearms together. The Brit squirmed as he was pulled upright by his hood.

"You'll let me go if you know what's good for you!" Arthur shouted and gritted his teeth in pain when he was harshly backhanded as a result. The goblins cruelly laughed as his eyes teared up and the side of his face smarted red.

"Gag him" The scarred one snapped and Arthur bared his teeth as a ball of cloth was forced into his mouth, his legs kicked out weakly as he dragged backwards to the goblin camp.

* * *

The camp goblins cheered and blew their war horns as the three triumphant goblins and their captive marched back into the base. Arthur kept his head bowed as he was hauled past the central fire pit and thrown before a raised wooden platform, his forehead smacked painfully against the dry mud ground. On the platform, sat the chief of the encampment, a fat hulk of a goblin. The three that had captured Arthur came forward as the surrounding crowd finally calmed so they could speak.

"We brought the one that attacked the camp, chief!" One of them announced and there was a collective victorious stamping of applause from all the watchers. Arthur gulped as he heard a loud thud as the chief stepped off the platform in front of him. A giant hand enclosed around the back of Arthur's neck and forced it to crane backwards, his face to the sky. The chief goblin had horrid tusks sticking out from his lower jaw and when he bent down to examine his face, Arthur struggled not to gag from the stench of his putrid breath.

"This one? Is too puny to kill goblin," The chief spoke thickly as he regarded the struggling prisoner and threw him backdown, "but boss wants all men we have. Take him to boss, use the hogs and ride. Tomorrow, we move north!". The goblins grabbed Arthur and he thrashed and screamed at them through his gag as he was pulled towards two large warthogs. They tossed him on the saddle like he were a sack of potatoes and a goblin climbed open beside him and fastened him down. The camp jeered as Arthur tried to buck against his restraints in desperation. Things were going from bad to worse, and Arthur could no longer see how he could possibly escape. With his hands bound, there was no safe way he could conduct his magic without potentially harming himself. He couldn't move an inch or even try to break free with the goblin rider directly beside him, _and_ he had no idea where he was being taken. He was screwed, he was so screwed.

The rider next to him took the reins as Arthur silently despaired, and raised them to crack them, when a whizz was heard, followed by the sight a goblin dropping dead; an arrow prodding from it's skull.

"Intruders!" A goblin crowed and all creatures turned to face the attackers. Arthur's head shot up and saw three hooded figures in green, two wielded bows while the third, an axe. The figures charged forward into the camp, the axe wielder taking an aggressive lead as they swung and cut through the horde of goblins.

"Mmphf!" Arthur tried to call out to get their attention and his goblin rider forced his head back down with a growl. Unbelievably, one of the archers spotted the hog rider and his captive and pointed his index finger at them.

"There!" He yelled down to the axe wielder and the man turned in time to see Arthur's rider dig his heels into the hog's ribs and the beast rear up and stampede out of the camp.

"Shit" The axeman spat and sheathed his axe as he broke into a sprint after the hog. His two companions continued to drop goblins as he ran.

* * *

Arthur's battered frame jolted with every bound against the hog's bloated body, the force enough to bruise his front. The hog squealed as it's rider pushed it to ride harder and Arthur could only lie limp, else risk being punched again. When he turned his head to look back, Arthur's heart sped up when he saw that the axeman gave chase after them. Astride a white unicorn, bareback with his fingers clenched into it's pearl mane and axe raised. The mythical horse galloped and was quickly closing in. Arthur's rider hissed and unsheathed his knife when he was suddenly yanked out of the saddle by an indivisible hand. It collided and rolled against the ground as the axeman flew past, and drew up alongside the now riderless hog. The axeman leaned over and grabbed the reins, pulling hard on them until the hog slowed to a stop. Arthur strained against the bindings as the axeman dismounted and strode around the hog. A hand snaked into Arthur's hair and he groaned in pain when his head was yanked up for the second time that day.

"Well, well ain't this a familiar sight?" A recognisable accented voice taunted and the axeman pulled back his hood to reveal the face of Allistor Kirkland in all his smug, gloating glory. Arthur immediately glared at his eldest brother and he began to yell muffled insults at the man as Allistor cocked his head in the imitation of listening hard.

"What's that? Ya want the gag off ta thank me for savin' ya peaky arse? Then why didn't ya say so!" Allistor chuckled and pulled the cloth out of Arthur's mouth. It took Arthur a few seconds to regain his breath.

"You're a right foul git, y'know that!" Arthur spat as Allistor fiddled with the straps to undo him. When the last saddle buckle came away, Arthur would of slid to the ground if Allistor had not caught him, the Scot unsheathed his knife and sawed through the belt that tied his arms. Arthur shook off his brothers grip and rubbed his irritated wrists to sooth them as he backed away a distance. Allistor threw his hands up in disbelief before resting them sassily on his hips.

"A simple 'thank you' would do" He snorted and Arthur's scowl deepened.

"I didn't ask you to save me" Arthur snapped back and Allistor shook his head.

"Ya don't ask the sun ta rise every mornin', but it does anyway," He countered and frowned when he looked back and noticed that the goblin that had ridden with Arthur had escaped. Perfect. "It will hav' made it back ta camp by now," Allistor groaned and whistled over his unicorn familiar. It trotted over and he mounted in a smooth movement, extending an offering hand to Arthur, "Come, tha rest are waitin'". Arthur looked at the outstretched hand suspiciously.

"And who is that?"

"Sorcerers that hav' the brains ta see when a storm is brewing. You're not the only one ta notice the goblins' numbers grow. Now get on!". Arthur scoffed and slapped away the hand before he flicked his wrist out. A blistering ball of green fire combusted into existence from a distance away and a mighty roar boomed as a huge lion materialised from the flames. The great cat continued to roar as it conducted a victory lap around the brothers, causing Allistor's unicorn whinny nervously as it pasted and came to a stop beside Arthur; he ran a hand affectionately through the dense golden mane before he pulled himself up and turned to give Allistor a puffed up look.

"Learn't how to summon him last summer" Arthur proudly boasted and Allistor rolled his eyes, though secretly, the fact that Arthur's familiar was such a powerful beast unnerved him. Hypothetically, if his unicorn and his lion were to fight, Allistor wouldn't be sure who the victor would be. It would be an interesting fight to say the least.

"Well?" Arthur called out and shook Allistor out of his thoughts. The Scot blinked and shook his head to clear it.

"This way" He stated and spurred his unicorn in a gallop west, Arthur's lion bounding after them; it's sturdy paws drumming against the earth.

* * *

The brothers rode across the grassy plane, the sun beating on their backs and the wind rushing against their face when they saw another rider race out the forest to meet them. It was Seamus and he rode his beige stag familiar, the pair sped up to match their swift pace. The second eldest Kirkland offered Arthur a warm smile as he got close. He looked different from the last time Arthur had seen him, when he had left to join the Twilit Monastery in the northern floating Hallelujah Mountains a year ago. His chestnut hair was longer and pulled back into a short ponytail, and under his eyes and lips, his skin was slightly darker in the shapes of strange decorative markings.

Arthur didn't know much about the mysterious monastery, only that it was extremely exclusive in choosing it's members and that it was a spiritual sister branch of the assassin organisation, the Watchmen; the Watchmen worshipped the goddess of night Nyx, while the Twilit Monastery worshipped her twin, the god of darkness Erebus. Seamus had never explicitly stated as to why he left to join, the vague reason he had given Arthur was along the lines of wanting to experience religion (Arthur had in return, countered that joining the Church of Gaia would have been much simpler, but Seamus had stated that he liked a challenge).

"Lo Arthur! Good to have you back! Fantastic familiar!" Seamus shouted over the racing noises and Arthur couldn't help back smile back at the compliment.

"Thank you! Where's Dylan? I thought he was with you!" He yelled back and there was a rumbling roar like thunder as a large shadow overpassed them. Arthur looked to the sky and laughed when he saw his brother riding his glorious rudy scaled dragon, it's colossal leathery wings creating gigantic bellows of wind as it soared overhead.

"Show off!" Arthur heard Allistor shout up at him and he looked back to the land to see that they were approaching a gathering of tents. The campers, fellow sorcerers of the Elder Grove and clan in different shades of green, cheered and waved as the Kirklands closed the distance between them. As Allistor, Seamus and Arthur slowed their familiars to a halt and dismounted, Dylan's dragon dropped out of the sky and landed heftily near them. Dylan slid off his dragon's scaly back and jogged over to his brothers to clap them all of the back. He playfully ruffled Arthur's already messy hair and Arthur gleefully fought him off.

"Let's get ta the tent, then we talk business" Allistor prompted and they all fell into line behind him as he started off into the camp. Just like old times. The Elder Grove sorcerers had set up their camp around a round fire pit near a gently humped hill, on which a white tent was pitched. The Kirklands' familiars had already skirted around the edge of the camp and were making themselves comfortable when Allistor marched up to their tent.

He flung open the tent's entrance flap and Arthur admired the quality of the interior decor. Four hammocks hung between the tent's structural wooden posts and a low table with bowls of fruit and bread sat central of the circular home; round cushions dotted around it to act as seats. The opposite side of the entrance had been tied open to give a gorgeous view of the meadow where Dylan's dragon could be seen curled up and puffing smoke rings for Arthur's lion to play with, while Allistor's unicorn and Seamus' stag could also be seen peacefully grazing together. Arthur didn't know how to feel that his brothers had already prepared a fourth hammock for him ahead of time, as though they were expecting him to stay. Their relationship was temperamental and unpredictably as the sea, but for them to do this, Arthur assumed that they were trying to make an effort to stay on civil terms with him.

Dylan wandered over to his swaying hammock and collapsed into it just when Seamus worked to remove his quiver and bow, dumping them in the open chest positioned between his bed and Dylan's. Arthur sighed as he sat himself down at the table and examined the red markings around his sore wrists that were already fading. Sorcerers would be in right mess with we didn't have accelerated healing factors, Arthur thought to himself as Allistor sat down at the table with him; he reached out and plucked a juicy plump, peach from one of the wooden bowls.

"So," Arthur remarked sarcastically with a clap, "why are we really here? Don't tell me its goblins because they don't warrant this amount of attention". Allistor huffed a laugh as he swiped away the sweet peach juice from his chops.

"Nothing gets past you Artie, does it? Aye, this isn't just about the goblins, though they are a part of it" Allistor laid out and Arthur raised an inquisitive comically thick brow. Seamus had finished disarming himself and joined them at the table. Dylan had instead opted to take a quick nap.

"The goblins are rallying in a major way, and there are signs that someone is behind. Someone who does not follow traditional goblin warfare" Seamus spelled out and Arthur looked to him.

"The bastards did say something about a 'boss'. Apparently he's demanded that all men be brought to him" He added and Allistor frowned at the new information.

"So thats why they kidnapped you. There _is_ someone pulling the strings. But what's more worrying than that lad, is that we've spotted omens of magic accumulate over where we think is the main horde". Arthur felt his blood chill that the implication.

"You think it's one of us? A sorcerer?" He exclaimed and Seamus chewed his lip nervously.

"It seems the most likely assumption, between us. But that's not even the worst part of this all," Seamus trailed off and looked down at his hands on the table, "People, Elder Grove sorcerers specifically, are going missing. No tracks, no traces. No signs of a struggle. Just, poof, gone. We have no idea what, who is doing it. We have no leads, only that it strikes every night". Arthur looked between his brothers with an expression of uncertainty. He didn't know what to say, though he now realised why an extra bed had been included for him. With these disappearances, his brothers were clearly determined not to let him out of their sights. Which meant, _oh joy_ , they were going to be spending allot of time together. Arthur opened his mouth to complain, to insist that he could take care of himself, when the flap of their tent was thrown open. A breathless fellow sorcerer stood bent over at the entrance.

"Kirklands! The Red Cloaks are coming! The whole clan, including chief Grand himself!" He announced and Arthur followed Allistor's lead as he jumped to his feet with Seamus and Dylan.

"Red Cloaks? Here? What the hell do they want?" Dylan questioned as they followed the messenger out of the tent to the edge of the camp where the other Elder Grove sorcerers gathered; all eyes forward to the approaching mass of crimson banners and cloth. The Kirklands pushed their way through the crowd to the front line and Allistor nodded to one of the former council elders, Macduffian and his son, before he focused on the now halted line.

Red stood opposite green as the two brother clans faced each other, waiting for the other to act. There was a wave that rippled forward, the spear wielding clansmen shifted and two people broke through the crowd to stand front and centre. It was the clan's chief, Marca Grand and a young woman who could only be his daughter, Sorcha. The Red Cloaks' chief was tall and muscular, with thick dark dreadlocks that spilled over his broad back and shoulder. He towered over his men and every bulbous muscle looked as though it were constantly tensed.

The very little history that Arthur had on the man was that when the sorcerers' council of elders had broken down, Marca had gathered his followers and established his own clan, the Red Cloaks. The man was rumoured to fight demonically, with incredible brute strength that rivalled a giant's. His clansmen followed in his example, favouring the way of the warrior over that of the scholar.

But by far, the strangest sight for Arthur, was the sight of the young woman at the chief's right hand. No daughter of a sorcerer could naturally wield their mana, that was an indisputable fact that had existed since sorcerers themselves. As a result, women did not tend to stick around. A domestic lifestyle just wasn't compatible to a sorcerer's dangerous one. It was sad to say, but most sorcerers' relationships were finely balanced on whether their lover could provide them with a son that would inherit the ability to use magic. Those who birthed nonmagical sons or daughters, were well, left behind. Hence, Arthur's surprise upon seeing the chief leading with his daughter at his side.

Sorcha Grand was fiercely beautiful, her wild, dark hair that matched her father's was braided and shaven into a mohawk-like style. Her arms were strong and all over her olive skin, strange runic tattoos had been craved. She was a fierce tigress, powerful, dangerous and passionate. Arthur watched her searchingly scan the crowd for someone, and felt bemused when she settled her gaze onto Allistor and narrowed it; beside him, Arthur could of sworn he felt Allistor tense up. Did they know each other? Back in reality, Marca Grand stepped forward to address the Elder Grove clan.

"Hail, Elder Grove! Many moons have pasted since our last meeting" He called out loudly and Macduffian to walked forward to speak on behalf of the sorcerers behind him.

"Hail, Chief Marca Grand of the Red Cloaks. I am glad to see you and your people in able health. What brings you to our Isle?" He replied as he rested a hand on top of his young son's curly head.

"Goblins! We got wind that they're gathering in large numbers. Figured that we could get in on the action" Marca grinned a wide toothy grin and a line formed between Macduffian's greying brows.

"We…are appreciative, that you wish to help. But I assure you, we are more than capable than dealing with this new threat. You really do not need to do this" Macduffian attempted to pacify but Marca was having none of it as he waved to his men to begin pitching their tents, setting up only a few metres away from the Elder Grove clan's camp. Things were going to be, cosy to say the least.

Marca laughed loudly and held up a halting hand."Nonsense Macduffian. It's always safer to have more numbers. That, and my men haven't tasted blood in an age! This is just what we need to liven things up". Macduffian sighed defeatedly. Marca was too hotblooded, to eager for a fight to listen his pleads. At least some good would come out of it all, once the Red Cloaks had helped them with the goblins, perhaps they would stay to help investigate the disappearances. As inaudible murmuring broke out behind him, Arthur gulped when Sorcha leaned over to whisper into her father's ear. Marca's eyes jumped to Allistor and twinkled as he recognised him, marching forward towards them with his arms held wide open in a greeting gesture.

"If it isn't only the bloody Kirklands! How are you Allistor my boy? You look good, you look good" Marca bellowed as he clapped his huge hand hard onto Allistor's shoulder, the receiver hissing quietly from the painful force of it.

"Aye, well enough. An' yourself, Grand?" He gritted through his teeth as he forced a smile, rigid as a board. Arthur looked questioningly up at his eldest brother before he felt the subtle brush of Dylan's mind against his own, wanting to speak telepathically. Arthur complied and lowered his mental defences, grimacing slightly from the initial discomfort when Dylan's raw consciousness blended with his. Telepathic conversations were an odd sensation. Comparable to tuning into a private radio channel, though it was so much more when each recipient received an extra input of sensory information. The connection was beneficial in ways but also made lying or deception impossible, with the other being able to simultaneously feel the intent as you had it.

"The chief's daughter's got him right wrung up" Dylan's voice chuckled inside his head and Arthur shot him a quick dart of a look in real life.

"Sorcha? Why?" He mentally asked back and felt Dylan's amusement bubble in response.

"Oh little brother, such innocence. They used to court, of course. Got on rather well as well, until she proposed they jump the fire and Allistor rejected her. Ha, she wasn't the only one who was heartbroken, Grand was desperate to have him as a son-in-law".

"That sounds like a story and a half" Arthur mused and winced when Seamus forcefully tuned himself into their conversation, his anger tasted piercingly bitter.

"Could you two be more obvious?! You've been staring into space for the past minute without blinking!" He scorned and Arthur and Dylan blinked rapidly at the reminder, refocusing on the conversation taking place between Allistor and Marca. Luckily no one had noticed their blank expressions.

"You all will join Macduffian an' I? There is plenty we must discuss, _and_ we'll be roasting the monster boar I caught this morning. Even if you won't come for the discussion, come for the grub. I miss that classic Kirkland sense of humour" Marca joked at the unimpressed Allistor as he sighed.

"Only, because I'll be wantin' a leg of that boar" He relented and Marca jollily slapped him on the shoulder again.

"This'll be merry! I cannot wait to introduce to you Cornelis and his boys. They've made bounds in their recent research into Angel lore. They might have even discovered one of their legendary temples y'know," Marca heartily laughed and missed Allistor's irises shrink at the mention of the holy species "Not particularly my kinda of thing, never cared much for dusty ruins. But if you want to amuse him, I'm sure he'll wet himself in excitement". Allistor gave a reserved nod as his mind raced. He shot a glance back to Seamus and Dylan and knew that their thoughts mirrored him. Sorcerers poking around Angel ruins was not a comforting thought. They had to know how much this Cornelis had already found out. Make sure he wouldn't stumble upon anything that could possibly point towards Arthur and his secret.

"Lead the way" Allistor instructed and Marca threw a beefy arm over his shoulders as he led, leaving his daughter, Arthur, Seamus, Dylan and Macduffian to awkwardly follow behind.

* * *

So this will be a quaint mini story that I have planned. Nothing too long but I wanted the chance to explore Dylan's, Seamus' and the sorcerers culture.

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. If you are liking the story so far, please take the time to leave a review telling me your thoughts, opinions and questions. Once again, thank you for reading and as always,

Until next time folks!


	2. Chapter 2 - The Test

Hetalia - The Kirklands and the Vorpal Blade

Chapter 2 of this little side story. Apologies for the delay, a writing block punched me hard in the face every time I tried to sit down and crack this. If you are new to this series, I highly advise you go and read my Hetalia - Of Magic and Might and Hetalia - The Cold of War first as this is a short prequel to those stories.

Nevertheless, here it is and before we start, I do have to warn that, while it's brief and hardly could be deemed smut, there is sexual content in this chapter. Nothing crazy but seeing as I've never really gone into that area, I'd really appreciate any feedback you could give on it.

Enjoy!

* * *

The Elder Grove, North, Sorcerer's Meadow

Arthur drew back the bowstring and stared down his nocked arrow to the bullseye. The world silenced as his focus narrowed, seeing only his target in the mind's eye. With his arm firm and his aim true, Arthur let free taunt string and heard it's _twang_ of release. The arrow shot straight,and it's metal pointed head splintered clean through his previous one. Arthur sighed as he lowered the bow and turned around to pluck out another arrow stuck in the ground. Seamus and Dylan watched him as he practiced, proudly smiling at their brother's talent.

Behind where Arthur, Seamus and Dylan were at the shooting range, the Grand's tent stood awesomely with the Red Cloak's crimson banners snapping and whipping about in the warm breeze. The Grand's had set out a glorious living quarters for it's guests, with tables of wine, bread, cheese and meat laid spread near wooden tables and chairs upon which Macduffian and Marca sat conversing. Over on a massive table Grand's monstrous boar was displayed, roasted and honey glazed upon a platter of edible leaves, berries and mushrooms. Allistor stood over the beast with his hands shoved into his pockets, lost deeply in his own thoughts.

"He'll tell you that he was the one that caught it. But it was actually my spear that downed it" A familiar voice called out from behind him and Allistor turned to look as Sorcha Grand appeared beside him. Their eyes met and Allistor could not help but mirror her slight smile. It was strange how they could of left on such terrible terms, and yet then and there, it feel like nothing had ever changed. There was a feeling of mutuality between them, like that of two old war veterans.

"Oh really? Aren't ya kind ta let him take the credit" Allistor smirked, and his smile turned from teasing to sincere as Sorcha laughed; her white teeth contrasting attractively against her dark skin. Gods, he missed her, he missed the easy familiarity of their relationship. He missed her quick mind and her unyielding determination. And while it pained him to think back on how he had hurt her, Allistor was truly glad to speak with her again.

Sorcha playfully elbowed him and bit down on her lower lip. "Aye, aye, laugh it up. But you know, I'm not actually sure if it will taste any good. I'm positive that it's overcooked, I never liked things that way. Always felt-"

"It took away the goodness" Allistor finished for her and Sorcha looked at him in startled surprise as her over-confident persona slipped. You remembered? The unspoken words said and a light blush coloured Sorcha's cheeks as she looked down to her sandalled feet. Allistor paused before he slowly reached out and touched her gingerly on the arm; slow and respectful enough to give her the chance to pull away.

"Sorcha…" He began, but stopped when she shivered and retracted away from him. Her brief expression of vulnerability hardened into that of a warrior's.

"Father and Macduffian will want us to be there when we talk of the war" She shortly stated and spun on her heel, leaving Allistor in the dust. The eldest Kirkland would of sighed, had he not been so irritated at himself for believing that all could simply be forgiven with time. He remorsefully looked a final time at the meal, before he to turned and followed behind Sorcha to the war table.

Time Passed…

"We have no time. Who knows how many goblins are already on the way," Marca proclaimed with a slammed fist on the table. The taxing discussion had been going on for quite some time now, and Allistor was beginning to lose it with the back and forth arguments that bounced between the chiefs. He and Sorcha had kept relatively quiet throughout the whole thing, occasionally groaning at the inherent lack of progress being made. Macduffian's ginger moustache bristled as he leaned forward on the table.

"But we can not just rush in. We must take caution" The Elder Grove chief argued and looked stubbornly to Allistor, who was lazily leaning back on his chair, for support. The Scot sighed and dropped back onto four legs with a thud.

"He has a point Grand," Allistor admitted, "We shouldn't rush this".

"We aren't rushing things. That's what this whole meeting is about" Sorcha interrupted with a frown and there was fiction as her eyes fastened into Allistor's. Macduffian pulled the laid out map of the Grove closer to him and stamped a finger on a field a distance away from where their marked camp was.

"Why not think about this strategically? I propose that tomorrow, myself and a selected few from my clan go out and rig this field with traps. With them, we'll be able to clear out the first wave with no casualties on our part" Macduffian soundly suggested and it was only Marca that did not nod with approval. A worrying glint flared in his ebony iris.

"And why, is it only Elder Grove men that go? _Macduffian_ " Marca slowly asked with a deliberate baiting tone and Allistor inwardly cursed as he saw that the conversation was about to dangerously snowball. Great. Just what they needed: more fucking drama.

Macduffian meet Marca's aggressive glare head on. "Because, _Grand_ , our magical expertise is greater and more in-depth than your Red Cloaks'. As it always has been". The surrounding sorcerers that guarded their chief's accommodation jumped when his roar of outrage exploded.

"You dare speak to me like?" Marca shouted red in the face with spittle flying, "You have the balls to say your better than us!?".

"You have some nerve Macduffian" Sorcha hissed as she rose to her father's defence, a hand firmly pushing down on his shoulder to keep him from rising out of his seat.

"That's not what he's saying Grand" Allistor stepped in and Marca turned on him.

"Stay out of this Kirkland, and you won't get hurt" He spat with wild eyes and clenched fists.

"Already resorting to violence Marca? How typical of a Red Cloak" Macduffian scoffed arrogantly and Allistor moved fast in front of him to stop Sorcha from lunging at him.

"You son of bitch!" She shrieked as she fought against Allistor's grip on her wrists, near shaking him off with her viscousness, "You stuck up, condescending snob! I'll wring you out myself!".

"Oi, hey! Hey!" Allistor cried as he struggled to hold on and grimaced when her elbow dug sharply into his ribcage, "Argh- Let's keep our heads here!".

"I could not agree more, young Allistor" A voice of velvet rang out and the heated air dissolved as the company turned in surprise to see who had interrupted them…

The sun was low in the late afternoon sky when the meeting was ground to a halt. Over by the his bullseye that now resembled a pincushion, Arthur glanced over and saw Grand, Macduffian, Allistor and Sorcha all untangle themselves as three newcomers approached their table. He whistled to his brothers and Seamus and Dylan followed his stare, their matching forest green eyes widened as they recognised who they were.

"Cornelis Manta and his twin sons, Jadis and Ashton" Dylan remarked in a coloured tone of surprise and Arthur raised an inquisitive thick eyebrow in response.

"The angel researchers?" He asked as Seamus and Dylan came to stand beside him. Now that they were closer, Arthur could see that the Mantas were all tall and fair featured. Their hair was silvery and kept long, while they wore robes of indigo that lined their slender frames. Arthur watched as Cornelis introduced himself to Allistor and Macduffian, noting how extravagant and flamboyant his body language was. Clearly, that of a man who loved himself. Cornelis seemed to be the only one inciting conversation while his sons stared blankly at nothing on either side of him eerily.

"Apparently so," Seamus mused, "anyone want to go join the world's most uncomfortable conversation, judging by Allistor's face?"

"Nah. Let's stay here and pretend we haven't seen them" Dylan quipped back and Arthur smirked in amusement when the hairs on the back of his neck stood up and a chill rode down his spine. His brows ceased as he searched for the eyes he felt on his back and saw that it was the Manta twins. They were staring at him, and they seemed to be silently…chanting? Arthur opened his mouth to express his discomfort, when his eyes felt as though they had combusted into flames.

Allistor's head snapped when he heard Arthur's earsplitting scream of pain, and saw his brother hunched over with both hands clamped over his eyes.

"What- Whats wrong?" Macduffian stuttered bewilderedly as Allistor was already running over to Arthur and pushed aside Seamus and Dylan to get to the trembling youth. Behind him, the sorcerers stared on at the scene concernedly, and he missed the significant look that the Manta twins gave their father. Allistor breathed deeply to calm himself as he gripped Arthur by the shoulders and shook him.

"Artie. Look at me," He ordered in his most authoritative voice and Arthur managed to control his shaking to bare flinching. Slowly, he minimally lowered his hands, and Allistor had to force himself to bite down on the inside of his cheek to keep from crying out in horror. Instead of rich green, Arthur's irises were a luminous, molten gold. Two brilliant halos that shone so brightly around the black pupils, that Allistor could of sworn it was to deliberately offend him. Shining, terrible evidence of his angelic heritage.

"Ah! Gods, they _burn_ " Arthur groaned as he squirted up at Allistor, who had turned pale and whose grip had tightened painfully on his shoulders. Allistor grabbed Arthur's head with both hands and used his thumb to pry the lid back. Upon closer inspection, he witnessed the halo's light begin to dim as tiny cracks appeared and fractured the glowing ring. The fragments became smaller and smaller before they finally crumbled into the familiar tumbling particles of gold.

"Well? What is it?" Arthur demanded again as his blinks slowed back down to a normal rate and Allistor let out a withheld tense breath.

"Nothin'. Magic flare, that's all" He lied with a light slap on Arthur's cheek and smiled as he pulled back. He ignored Seamus' and Dylan's looks as they shuffled to subtly shield Arthur from the other's peering stares, and turned to address the watchers. Looks of worry was etched onto the Grands' and Macduffian's face, and while it was also mirrored on the Mantas', Allistor sensed that there was something more beneath it…

"Is he alright?" Sorcha called over with a jerk of the chin at Arthur and Allistor nodded once. The trees rustled as a chilling wind abruptly cut through the meadow and overhead, storm grey rainclouds rolled in threateningly.

"Aye. Just tired. I think it's time we went back ta rest. We'll see all of ya in the morning" He shouted back and slung an arm over Arthur's shoulders as he led him away. Arthur protested beneath his smothering hold and Seamus and Dylan followed on Allistor's tail. Sorcha offered him a small smile and Marca gave him a hard pat on the back to convey that there was no hard feelings as they pasted.

"See you on the front lines" He said and got a stiff nod in reply before Allistor walked away from the chief's tent with his brothers in tow.

* * *

The Kirklands' Tent

"How humiliating!" Arthur moaned as he threw himself on his swinging hammock. Seamus, Dylan and Allistor entered behind him, the latter waving a hand over the flap for it to magically sew itself shut.

"Oh, what was?" Seamus sarcastically puffed and Arthur flipped over onto his back to glare at him.

"You! Pawing me like a babe in front of Macduffian and Grand!," Arthur wailed as he kicked off his boots, "Gr! I must of looked like a right sissy".

"Hey, you don't need us for that" Dylan teased and laughingly ducked as Arthur lobed his boot at him.

"It's not funny, Dylan! How the bloody hell are they supposed to respect me, if none of you do!". Having wandered across by the back entrance, Allistor watched out where their familiars were and pressed his lips together when he saw Arthur's lion hostilely snarling and baring it's fangs at theirs. A bad sign of Arthur's attitude towards them. Behind him, Arthur continued to argue with Seamus and Dylan.

"Would you just relax Arthur? Of course we respect you" Seamus tried to reassure, only to have Arthur's mood worsen.

"Oh really? Well, you have aright funny way of showing it," Arthur hissed as he whipped his shirt off to undress for bed, "This is exactly what I hate about meeting up. You always treat me like I need my hand holding. I'm seventy years old for gods' sake! I'm not a child". Allistor barked an ironic laugh and casually looked over his shoulder to his fuming younger brother.

"Artie, ya barely a teenager in our eyes. If you want ta be treated like an adult, start actin' like one. Screaming about in ya frilly knickers is doing nothin' for ya" He put down and Arthur glared at him before he rolled into bed and drew his blanket above his head to cocoon himself.

"Piss off. Once this is over, I'm leaving" His grumbled cursing came out muffled and Seamus and Dylan looked to Allistor with dual looks of concern. Things had soured quicker than they had anticipated. Allistor sighed and made a 'V' with his fingers and motioned to his eyes and then to Arthur. The message clear: keep an eye on him. The two nodded and Dylan coughed to clear his throat distractingly.

"So um, what did the Mantas say? Anything good?". Allistor folded his arms as he looked out past Arthur's now sleeping lion (notably, sleeping a distance away from the other familiars) to the forest borderline.

"It's true what Grand said about them. Cornelis an' his lads found an Angel temple" He tusked and Seamus and Dylan straightened up in alarm.

"They're real then?"

"Aye, though they've ran into a bit of a hick. They can't find an entry point. There's no way to enter" Allistor went, "According to a tablet they translated, they have to fulfil a condition for the temple to open". Seamus made a disquieted sound in his throat as he undid his leather jerkin and shirt to reveal a toned chest; black tattoos he gained from the time spent at the Twilit monastery decorated and outlined his ribcage.

"Did they say what the condition was?" He asked and Allistor shook his head.

"They didn't. They also didn't elaborate on how they 'found' this tablet". Dylan got up as he bent down to remove his boots and belt.

"You suspect foul play?"

"Something is definitely going on" Allistor agreed and froze when from across the meadow to the forest trees, he saw a dark hooded figure emerge and eye their tent. The figure stared back at him before they slowly lowered their hood and Allistor felt a torrent of conflicted emotions when his eye sight adjusted to reveal the nightly visitor to be Sorcha.

They stood gawking at each other, with only the wind to fill the space between them. She lingered a moment longer before she hooded her head again and turned to walk back into the forest. The backwards peek she gave Allistor indicated an invitation to follow. Back inside, Seamus and Dylan had climbed into bed and were waiting for Allistor to seal off the tent. When the warding wasn't activated, they frowned in confusion.

"Hey honey? Gonna come to bed?" Dylan teased with smirk that dropped off when Allistor stepped outside.

"I'm stepping out for a bit. One of you stay up to keep watch until I get back" He ordered and ignored his brothers' immediate questions as he dropped the flap and strode out to follow Sorcha; running a hand over the unicorn's glossy back as he pasted his familiar. He stepped over the invisible boundary line of the forest and was forced to break into a jog to keep Sorcha in his line of sight as she went ahead. Through the quiet forest they ran, twigs and dry leaves crunched beneath their padding feet with the whispering whoosh of their cloaks as they flew. The sky was now a midnight blue and the scattered winking stars and pale moon were Allistor's and Sorcha's guiding lights.

The terrain sloped down and the trees began to thin as Allistor saw Sorcha stop and look out to something he could not yet see. As he came to her side, Allistor silently awed at the body of water that stretched out before them. The quiet water was still and above it's reflective surface, hundreds of fireflies danced, flickered and spiralled. Sorcha breathed evenly as she took in the wondrous sight, a tranquil peace reverberating between the man and woman.

"I found this place while on a scouting mission. It's beautiful, no?" Her voice chimed and her eyes flickered to the ground before they meet Allistor's. Allistor gulped as he realised how close they were to each other; so near that he could make out the little details like the faded scar over her lip. Being this close to her again, saw the return of that bittersweet longing in Allistor. His hands itched to slip into her's, his arms to take her into them. His lips to pepper her cheek…

"Beautiful" Allistor whispered as he gazed at her, and smiled nostalgically at the deep blush that blossomed. Sorcha's long lashes fluttered, and Allistor dared not breathe when her hand brushed lightly against his, and she intertwined their fingers together.

"I missed this," She chokingly whispered with barely moving lips, "I missed you". Allistor slowly, tenderly, turned so that he fully faced her and raised a hand to caress the smooth curve of her jaw. Her rich skin black silk to the touch.

"And you I" He breathed as he leant closer until his forehead pressed against hers. Their hot breathes intermingled and washed over the other's upper lip as Sorcha leaned into Allistor's affectionate touch; their noses nudged and bummed into each other, their hearts beating wildly in sync.

"Will you stay with me? L-like that time underneath the lavender tree?" She breathlessly sighed, resting her hands against his chest and scrunched the cloak's fabric as she tightened her grip. It was Allistor's turn to blush as he thought back to the heated night she was referring to, and his mouth suddenly turned dry.

"Exactly like that time?" He asked thickly and felt Sorcha's frame shake as she chuckled at his uncharacteristic timidness.

"Exactly like that time" She smiled and tilted her head up to seal their lips. Allistor let out a soft groan as her hands snaked over his shoulders and into his hair to clutch him closer. His own circled around her hips and pulled them to close the distance as the kiss deepened; their tongues battling for dominance. It was all coming back: the initial hesitation, followed by the awkward frenzy of undressing, which would ultimately led to silly giggling as they fell to the ground.

Supporting Sorcha's weight on his lap, Allistor managed to calm his snickering and showered kisses along her bare collarbone up to her neck to suck on the sensitive space just under her jaw. The chief's daughter arched her back into him and moaned as one of Allistor's rough hands began to cup and knead her left breast while the other reached lower to her hot spring. A gasp left her and she twisted her fingers back into Allistor's copper mane to wrench his devouring lips from her neck to her starving ones. Earthy soil and mud dirtied their tangled bodies and the heavy air was that of sweat and sex, their passionate wrestling interrupting the quiet of the nature with the rhythmic slapping of flesh against flesh and pitched screams of pleasure.

* * *

Ha ha, Allistor, you saucy son of a gun ;) So yeah, that's the end of this chapter and things are beginning to heat up (for some, more literally than others). Decisions on how to convey specific information that will be important later was a bit of an issue, but I'm ultimately happy with what I got out. Writing the brothers interact with each other is one of my favourite things about this story, I just love their dynamic so much.

 **Like I said in the beginning, I would really appreciate any feedback you could give on this chapter, specially the scene between Allistor and Sorcha. Have never really written that kind of thing so please let me know what I'm doing wrong and right.**

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. If you are liking this series, please be sure to leave a review letting me know your thoughts, opinions and questions. Once again, thank you for reading and as always,

Until next time!


	3. Chapter 3 - The Truth

Hetalia - The Kirklands and the Vorpal Blade

Chapter 3 and it's time to ram up the pressure on this story! A big thank you to Chiisaioni and Willow Leaves who gave feedback on the last chapter. It's almost time to wrap up this short story and then onto the **Hetalia - Turn of the Tide.** Without further ado, onto the next chapter!

Enjoy!

* * *

The Elder Grove, The Sorcerer's Meadow, The Kirkland's Tent

Patience is a virtue. But after an hour waiting, Dylan Kirkland could contain himself no longer and exclaimed his utter irritation to his brothers by throwing down his book on fantastical beasts and where they could be found.

"Where the hell is he? What could possibly take so long?" He cried and across from himself, Seamus chewed his lip nervously as he peered out to the forest.

"He might of gotten lost, or he could be in danger" Seamus worryingly suggested and turned his head when Arthur stirred from his sleep, rolling over to fix them with a frown. Who knows how long he had been awake and listening.

"Whatever. It's Allistor. As if the prick would get into trouble he can't get himself out of" The youngest Kirkland grumbled as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sat up, the hammock swaying from the disturbance and his blond bed hair stuck up at odd angles.

"There are allot of goblins out there though" Dylan countered and gave a relenting huff before he grabbed his boots from under him and began to shove his foot into them.

Seamus squeaked and shot him a startled look ,"What are you doing?!". Dylan glanced over before turning his attention back to doing his laces.

"What does it look like? I'm going out to look for him" He returned as he stood up, only to be blocked by Seamus as he sprang out of his own bed.

"Dylan don't," Seamus whispered urgently , "we have to keep an eye on Arthur. Remember what happened in the field with his eyes?,". When both of their eyes jumped back to Arthur, they saw that he had also risen from his bed and was pulling on his white shirt. "No. No, no no. Arthur, get back to bed now". Arthur scowled at Seamus.

"Well like hell I'm going to pass on beating goblins after what they did to me" He snorted and Seamus stubbornly marched over to the back entrance to guard it. Dylan made a sound of disbelief in his throat.

"Oh come on, Seamus. Aren't you meant to be the mature one?" He teased and Seamus only narrowed his eyes as he folded his arms. The three Kirklands stood eyeing each other for the first to move, not sure to what heights the argument would escalate or if the element of force would come into it. Dylan stepped forward, but his intentions were never known as right at that moment, a familiar voice of velvet called out from behind Seamus.

"Greetings young Kirklands" The smooth voice resounded and drew all the brothers to the edge of the tent to see who the speaker was. There, way out in the same direction Allistor had set off in, stood Cornelius Manta. His silvery waves shimmered in the moonlight as he raised a beckoning hand. Seamus' body tensed and his hand snapped out to grab Arthur's wrist as he tried to move forward.

"What?," Arthur hissed as he tried to shake off his brother's grip. Truthfully, Seamus wanted to warn Arthur then and there about the man's shady character. But what could he say? 'He's investigating Angels, and I don't want you going near him because you are one'? In his hesitation to give an answer, Seamus' hold had slackened and Arthur took the opportunity to free himself and strode across the plain towards the man. Dylan gave a sigh and before darting after him, the motion prompted Seamus out of his thoughts and he to followed after.

Cornelius smiled as Arthur stopped in front of him, the blond youth looking him up and down suspiciously while his brothers came to a halt just behind him and radiated hostility. Cornelius pushed aside the thought and focused on Arthur as he opened his mouth to speak.

"What do you want?" Arthur dismissively cut off and Cornelius quietly chuckled at the boy's brashly direct attitude. He made a soft musing noise and held his palms open as a sign of peace.

"Arthur, we haven't been properly introduced" Cornelius replied as he extended his hand and felt a prick of anger when Dylan Kirkland stepped in.

"Why bother. We know who you are, and you know who we are. So out with it, what are you doing here?".

Cornelius could barely conceal his sigh at the boy's lack of diplomacy and retracted his hand. "Now, now. I merely came to see if you had recovered from your little _incident_ back at the Grand's tent. I was awfully worried, you know" He explained and his interest grew as he saw Seamus and Dylan share a missable look of panic. How interesting…

Arthur scoffed at Cornelius' choice of words. "T'was a magic flare, that's all" The boy answered with a wave and Cornelius lightly shook his head with a laugh.

"No, young Arthur. I will tell you that was definitely not a mere flare of magic that caused your eye's to shine" He revealed and grinned as his brother's glared at him and moved to stand in front of their confused sibling with clear expressions of apprehension.

"That's enough Cornelius! Keep that snake tongue behind your teeth!" Seamus hissed and went to place his hand on his dagger hilt, when he realised that it was still back at the tent when he had undressed. Shit. The situation had taken a dangerous turn. At his elbow, he could felt Arthur freeze.

"What is he talking about, Seamus?" The Brit whispered and Seamus opened his mouth to give an answer, but no words came out. Sensing his brothers' distress, Dylan fixed Cornelius with his most poisonous look and pulled his lips back over his teeth.

"Back off Manta" He growled and the knot in his stomach tightened when the man gave a mocking smirk.

And then, out of nowhere, Dylan felt as though a battering ram had slammed into his stomach. His body was thrown backwards and he cried as he flew back, tore through the tent's fabric, and landed hard on the table. His back splintered with pain and he took hagged breaths as he tried to contain the pain that was violently assaulting his body. He groaned as he managed to minimally move his head and saw that Seamus had received the same treatment as him. His head swam from the shock as he forced himself to his feet despite his protesting body and his vision tinted red as he saw Cornelius reaching for Arthur. He was about to lunge forward when a sudden, unseeable grip enclosed itself around his neck and yanked him into the air like a fish on a line.

"Seamus! Dylan!" Arthur shouted as he saw the two be lifted into the air. He hissed when he recognised the Manta twins as they stepped out from the shadows with their hands raised, making it clear that it was them that were hurting his brothers. Arthur whipped back to Cornelius to confront him, when a sharp edge sliced across his cheek. He flinched at the sudden pain and hot liquid that spilled down his face, jumping away to dodge for the follow up attack that never came.

Cornelius was holding up a bloodied razor blade skyward with a look of pure satisfaction on his face. Slowly, he turned it over as though to properly examine the red blade from a new angle; a victorious smile pulled at his lips as his predatory eyes slid back onto Arthur.

"Now then, young man," He purred and pointed the bloodied weapon at him, "its time for you and I to leave. We have somewhere _very_ important to be".

"I'm not going anywhere with you" Arthur spat at the sorcerer as he lowered himself into a defensive stance, balling his fists and raising them to guard his face. That smug smile continued to stain Cornelius' face as he reached into his pocket and from it, withdrew a square tablet of white wood fixed on a cord; a large distinct character carved into the sanded surface.

"I know you are a clever lad, Arthur. So tell me, what character have I carved here?" Cornelius asked gleefully as he held up the tablet, the paling look of Arthur's face telling him that he did indeed know the answer.

"The Hypnos rune" Arthur stated with thick tongue as his eyes anxiously darted between the tablet and his red blood on the razor. Terror had it's claws around his throat and it was beginning to apply pressure, making it harder and harder to breathe.

"Good. Good, I knew you would recognise it. Then, you understand what will happen if I combine this elfish blessed tablet with your blood?". Arthur gave a small nod and held up his hands in surrender while his mind frantically raced to calculate how quickly he could reach the man to snatch the tablet away. If his blood came into contact with that rune, it was over for him; he'd be reduced to walking puppet.

"Yes," Arthur answered with a constricted voice, hating the trembles that crept into it "Manta. I'll come, I'll come willingly. You- You don't have to do this". Cornelius pouted his lips with a nod and made to drop the items.

"No…," Cornelius said in a quiet voice, before he gripped the tablet and razor tighter, and pressed the two together, "I do".

The split second his blood smeared against the rune, Arthur's world shrank into darkness.

* * *

Cornelius exhaled his withheld breath when Arthur Kirkland's body visibly relaxed, his pupils dilating as the hypnosis magic took effect. Carefully, as to not break the enchantment, he walked forward until there was little distance between him and the boy and snapped his fingers by each ear. When there was no attentive response, Cornelius grinned at his success and moved the hand from an ear to tilt Arthur's chin up. The boy's eyes were a dull green and half lidded from the drugged effect. Stretching his thumb, he gently traced over the line he had cut, swiping over and away the weak flowing blood. Perfect, things would be much smoother with him subdued and docile.

"Boys," He barked without looking over to them and ignored the strangled noises Seamus and Dylan Kirkland made as they were suspended in the air, "Take care of those two and hide their bodies in the forest. Be sure to make it look as though it were goblins. When I return with the contents of the temple, not even Gisil Kirkland will be able to touch me". With that he seized his prize by the arm and marched off toward the forest with Arthur dully dragging his feet behind him, unaware of the danger that awaited him.

Helpless, at the end of his rope, Dylan Kirkland silently screamed as he watched the bastard drag Arthur away. The grip around his throat tightened again and another choked noise escaped as he desperately tried to breath. On the ground with his fist clenched up at him, Jadis Manta was an icicle of emotion. His face identical to his twin's in both emotionlessness and appearance. A mere metre away from him, Dylan saw Seamus's face slowly turn red as he resisted but could dually do nothing.

"Shall we end this quickly brother?" Ashton asked flatly, his grey eyes glinting as he spoke of the Kirklands' impending murder.

"We shall, brother. Though I must admit, I expected them to put up more of a fight" Jadis replied with a mirage of a smile ghosting his thin lips. Black dots began to swallow up Dylan's vision as his brain began to shut down, his limbs fell uselessly by his side. Dylan knew he dying as his heavy lids slide over his eyes as they rolled back into his head. And then, the pressure was gone with a cry.

Dylan felt himself be dropped like a sack and his ribcage painfully rattled as he coughed, choked as air rushed back in. Blinking through the tears, Dylan could vaguely see the fuzzy figures of Jadis and Ashton Manta cry out as an undefined creature charged at them. The two twins were forced to scatter and Dylan used the welcomed opening to roll away onto all fours. A groan escaped from his throat as he invoked his magic and it ignited through his veins like a powerful adrenaline shot. His pain was pushed from his mind as his vision and other senses snapped back into focus.

It was Seamus' stag that had been their saviour, having trampled into the Mantas and released their hold on himself and Seamus. The familiar circled back around for another charge as Jadis shook his head to clear it and he raised hand. Glancing over to his brother, Dylan saw Seamus tackle Ashton and the two rolled as they wrestled for control.

"Right" Dylan asserted to himself and pushed himself off the ground into a sprint with Jadis in his sights. The Manta turned too late as Dylan slammed his shoulder into the man and flipped him over it. Jadis hit the ground with a _thud!_ as the wind was knocked out of him. Dylan pivoted, swung and brought his foot whistling down in an axe kick. A loud crack was heard as his heel stomped down on Jadis' nose as he broke it, and was immediately followed by a screech of agony. Dylan stepped back as the screaming man clutched his bloody mangled nose and looked over to Seamus to see if he needed any help.

Like his brother, Seamus had taken down his opponent in remarkable time. Ashton lay at his feet, completely limp with his limbs twitching spastically. No signs of beating or bruises on him. Dylan raised a questioning eyebrow.

"How'd you do that?" He awed as Seamus looked over and rolled his shoulders back stiffly.

"I learnt a few things at the monastery. Press certain pressure points and the result is temporary paralysis," Seamus winked before he reached down and grabbed Ashton up by his collar threateningly "Although, I can easily make it permanent if you don't talk". Ashton's breathes were panicked as his body refused to cooperate, his terrified eyes darted from his brothers' sobbing form to Seamus glare.

"You're monsters" His weak voice quivered and Dylan stepped forward to hit him.

"Oh, _we're_ the monsters? Fuck you. You better spill your guts before I lose my patience and decide to break your goddamn nose as well" The second youngest Kirkland cursed and Ashton gave a whimper as he closed his eyes in defeat.

"It was Grand. He came to father. He said he needed power, something that would put the Red Cloaks on top. He was tired of being looked down upon, laughed at by the other clans. So he requested our help and we accepted" Ashton began and was interrupted by a harsh shake from Seamus.

"Why would Grand go to your father?".

"Grand wouldn't settle for anything mundane. He wanted ancient power and father offered the solution: Angels. Father is obsessed with their legends and we had found scattered artefacts throughout the Isles that hinted to their existence. Unbelievably, while researching in the Restless City in the Watchtower archives, he discovered a lead on a location of one of their legendary temples. Only problem is it was here, in the Elder Grove, and we couldn't walk in without you lot asking questions…

So Grand came up with a plan. We stir up the goblins, have them cause trouble and use the chaos as a cover to move in and pretend to provide assistance against their offence. While everyone would fight, father and Grand would sneak away and enter the temple and unlock it's power. That was the plan at least… It was going smoothly up until we discovered that the temple was locked down. Above the entrance, there was a message that read only someone with 'potent blood' could unlock it and beneath that was a spell that promised to reveal who that someone was. So, we started abducting sorcerers and testing them. But it wasn't working, our progress was too slow so father suggested that we set the plan into motion anyway, stating that with both clans together, we'd be able to search quicker while the goblin threat distracted everyones' attention…" Ashton trailed off and Seamus shook him hard again, his eyes burning a toxic acid green as he struggled to keep his temper.

"Go on" He growled and Ashton hiccuped as tears pooled in the corners of his eyes.

"You all were there. This afternoon, we tried the spell and Arthur Kirkland's eyes began to glow in reaction. We told father and Grand, and they started planning our next steps. They knew they'd never get close while Allistor and the Elder Grove clan were on high alert, so Grand had his daughter lure Allistor away". Dylan's fist smashed against Ashton's jaw without warning and the man cried out in pain.

"Sorcha is with him?" Dylan hissed and turned when Jadis loudly spat blood out of his mouth and rolled onto his front.

"With him, jumped him, killed him. Who knows?," He chuckled with red stained teeth, "besides, it's not him you should be worrying about". Seamus' head snapped back to Ashton.

"What is he talking about?" He interrogated with a snarl. A tear fell from Ashton's bloodshot eyes as he answered through barely moving lips.

"Goblins moved the date of their attack forward. They attack tonight, while father and Grand sneak to the temple with Arthur" He choked and Seamus threw down Ashton's body in horror, and looked to his brother to see Dylan's face mirror his own in dismay. The clan, they'd be slaughtered without warning. They wouldn't stand a chance.

"You go warn the others about the goblins. I'll go after Manta" Seamus commanded with a determined look in the direction that the bastard went with Arthur.

"What about Allistor?" Dylan pointed out and got a confident smirk in response.

"Allistor is best of us all. He'll be able to take care of himself" Seamus waved away however Dylan's doubtful look didn't change.

"And what about you, huh? Do you really think you can take Manta and Grand at the same time?" He asked and Seamus' smirk wavered.

"I have to" Seamus whispered, giving a nod before he broke into a sprint and disappeared into the forest, leaving Dylan to watch in his wake.

* * *

The Elder Grove, Somewhere else…

Allistor Kirkland soundly lay naked on his back, contently staring up at the starry night and listening to the musical choir of crickets. The comforting warm weight of Sorcha Grand lay with him and her dark fingertips lightly traced over the sharp muscle indents of his toned abdomen. Neither had said a word since they had finished, but the silence that lingered over them was broken when Allistor gave a wholesome sigh and wrapped his arms around Sorcha to cuddle.

"How was it?" He hummed as he kissed the top of her head and felt confused when she stiffened against him.

"Fantastic" She muttered in a wobbly voice, her tracing stopped and, to Allistor's bewilderment, she began to shake. Gods, was he that out of practice?!

"Woah! Hey, hey. What's wrong love? Y'ar worried? Is it about tha goblins?," Allistor began to comfort, rubbing her skin soothingly, "Ya don't have ta be. They'll be a breeze with our combined clans, an' y'know, perhaps after this…I mean, whenever either of us has some free time, maybe we could…make this work". Silently, with no explanation, Sorcha unwound herself out of Allistor's embrace and stood up, facing away from the Scot. Allistor looked up at her bare back and the thick messy mane that fell down it as he cautiously copied her action, unable to understand why the silence she held felt so terribly guilty.

"Sorcha…" He pleaded and froze when she turned to face him with the face of a sinner.

"I've deceived you Allistor. I didn't lead you here for the reason you think" She solemnly confessed and Allistor's blood chilled as confusion bled to cool anger.

"Explain yourself" He demanded in a tight voice, his hands at his sides curled into clenched fists. Sorcha tried to meet his iron eyes bravely, but what Allistor saw there was doubt that no amount of bravo could conceal.

"My task was to get you away from Arthur. By now, Manta will have him and have taken him to the temple to meet my father by now. Your younger brother was the one, the 'potent blood' they needed to unlock it. They knew from-".

"His eyes" Allistor grittily finished and a darkened shadow moved over his face, steeling his face into one of clamped, restrained wrath as he leant down and began to pull on his pants and boots. Externally, he was hardened as the stone statues of gods captured in marble. Internally, his heart felt dead. Inside, he screamed the most vile, the most blackest curses he knew. He bit, and kicked, and clawed and shrieked his grief and his pain of Sorcha's betrayal. His chest seemed to cave in on itself as the hellish words, 'She used you', kept rattling inside his skull. He had been wholly used. In body and heart. The siren had seduced him, blinded him with promises of pleasure. He felt so- so _violated._

Malice and hate burnt like hell inside Allistor. Not just at the bastards but at himself. He was meant to be Arthur's guardian. The unyielding pillar of strength, his big brother. He was meant to protect him from any who would harm him, and he had allowed himself to be led astray from the path. He had allowed weakness to seep in, and now Arthur was gone because of him. This…this _bitch_ , was to blame. No…that fact that he had actually deluded himself into believing that he could share himself between two people was the fucking cause. And, then and there, Allistor miserably realised: he could never love another, he could never _risk_ loving another, as long as he lived in the same world as Arthur.

There was a touch on his arm, and Allistor wrenched his arm away in disgust, "Where" He rasped in a voice that couldn't sound farther from his. Sorcha looked at the ground with watery eyes.

"North of here," She gasped, turning her eyes up and tried to put on her brave face, "I'm not sorry…" she lied with a hiccup. Allistor threw his cloak over himself, strapping it tightly to his person as if the extra layer could shield his hurt. He couldn't even look at her as he walked away, pouring his anguish, his torment into each stride as he ran.

Sorcha was alone, tears fell from her face for the only man she had ever loved, and splattered against her dirty feet; even the fireflies had moved on to leave her in the dark. Her black eyes closed to spill more as she shudderingly whispered the lie again as if repeating it could make it the truth.

"I'm not sorry…"

* * *

So...things went from one to hundred real quick. Allistor's character breaks my heart, with this heart breaking incident being the reason why he never sounds any interest in romance in **Hetalia - The Cold of War** , and likely never will...

I'm very excited for the climax of this story and I hope you all are to. Soon onto **Hetalia - Turn of the Tide** :)

Thank you for reading and I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. If you are liking this series, please be sure to leave a review telling me your thoughts, opinions and questions. Once again, thank you for reading and as always,

Until next time!


	4. Chapter 4 - The End

Hetalia - The Kirklands and the Vorpal Blade

*Claws way to back to life* I livvveeeee! Holy hell, it's been a long time, not only that but this chapter has been further delayed by the soul crushing glitch that doesn't allow you to save or upload anything in document manager.

However, I am just going to upload it without a in-depth author's note as I would of liked. I promised that Turn of the Tide will be out soon, but I will confess that I have a superhero AU in the works so that likely will be posted alongside it. So look forward to that! Thank you for reading and I present the last chapter of Hetalia- The Kirklands and the Vorpal Blade,

Enjoy!

* * *

The Elder Grove Isle, The Forest Grove.

Seamus Kirkland ran. Dry twigs snapped and brown leaves scattered beneath his drumming feet as he dashed through the whispering trees. A late night owl hooted overhead in the winking inky black sky, a predator that stalked his prey like Seamus; his oak leaf green eyes clued to the faint trail left by Cornelius and Arthur as he pushed his body to follow after. He leapt over steams and vaulted over fallen logs, so focused in keeping to the trail that he almost missed the sudden presences that appeared in his sensory range.

With a curse, Seamus skipped to a halt and rolled behind a trunk of a thick tree, praying that they had miraculously not heard his rather loud running. With his back pressed against the coarse bark, Seamus slowly rolled his head to peer around the tree and if he could spot the presences. When he saw no one approach, he near let out a quiet sigh of relief when a cool edge of steel pressed itself against his Adam's apple. Uh oh.

"Up. Now" An authoritative voice commanded and Seamus raised his hands to either side of his head as he stood up. He was surrounded by three men, one of them held a thin double-edged blade to him that seemed to extend from his…wrist? Seamus examined the weapon closer and saw, rather, that it protracted from a bracer clasped on the man's wrist. His oak leaf green eyes widened when he recognised who the men were. Watchmen, the assassination organisation of the Restless City, and sister branch of the Twilit Monastery. The watchmen wore black leather armour with an equally black cloak with hoods that were pulled over their heads low enough to conceal their faces. Daggers of differing size and shape were sheathed in their belts and the famous, characteristic hidden blades donned their wrists. As Seamus registered this, it seemed the watchmen had simultaneously recognised him as a twilit monk from his tattoos and markings under his eyes and lips. The blade at his throat wavered in hesitation.

"Release him," Said one of the other men as he lowered his hood to reveal a tanned face and shortish brown hair. Oddly, a white mask hid his eyes from sight. From the brilliant silver nightingale clap on his cloak, Seamus put together that he was the other mens' superior. The blade at his throat retracted and it's wielder stepped away as he and the other followed the masked man's lead and to lowered their hoods.

"Night and darkness" The masked man formally addressed to Seamus with a bow, the traditional greeting between watchmen and twilit Monks. Seamus gulped and returned the bow.

"Walk hand in hand" Seamus finished and gave an uneasy smile, horribly aware of the time he was wasting by talking to these watchmen. The longer he lingered, the longer Arthur was in danger. The masked man cocked his head at Seamus curiously.

"What are you doing so far from the monastery, brother?" He asked and Seamus silently groaned his frustration. He didn't have time for this! The quickest way to end this would be to just briefly tell the truth and hope they'll let him be on his way.

"Listen, I'm sorry but I do not have time for this. My name is Seamus Kirkland and I'm meant to be chasing after a man whose kidnapped my little brother. I don't know if he's hurt or what, but I need to go now!" Seamus blurted out in a rush of words and the masked man's eyebrows shot up from behind his mask as he reached out to grip Seamus by the arm.

"You are Allistor's brother?!," The man exclaimed and Seamus nodded numbly from surprise. How did this watchman know Allistor? The man smiled and patted his chest. "I am Sadrik Adnan, a close friend of Allistor's and leader of the Watchmen. Tell me, who has kidnapped Dylan or Arthur?".

"The bastard is Cornelius Manta and he and Marca Grand's taken Arthur to an angel temple to use him as some sort of key." Seamus hissed and the watchmen looked meaningfully between each other as Sadrik's smile twisted into a snarl.

"That man is the reason we are here. He stole secrets from our tower that were not meant for outsiders. Allow us to come with you Seamus, we will help you rescue Arthur and make this Manta pay for his crimes," Sadrik asserted with a pat of Seamus' shoulder, the warm smile back. Seamus could scarcely believe his luck. He had not only gained three new allies, but three capable, professional watchmen, and their leader was a friend of Allistor's to boot! Lady luck was smiling down upon him.

"This way" Seamus stated as he turned and began to run again, feeling immensely more confident than before. The monk and the watchmen together ran through the night forest towards the angel temple. Night and darkness, hand in hand.

* * *

The Sorcerers' Camp

Dylan Kirkland skidded to his knees at the wreckage of Allistor's tent and began to frantically search beneath the ruined cloth for his weapons and Allistor's light armour. His trembling hands finally closed around them and Dylan rushed to arm himself; pulling the enchanted weightless chain mail and tunic over his head and tightening the dagger sheath around his hips. He grabbed his quiver and bow and swung them in place over his shoulder before he stopped and looked at Allistor's axe handle to silently debate whether or not to take it as well. Allistor was very protective of that axe, it was a precious birthday present from their father. He'd be furious if Dylan lost it or broke it…Oh, what the hell.

"He can kill me later if I survive this" Dylan muttered to himself as he gripped the smooth, polished handle and swung it up to rest against his shoulder as he got up and looked back to the motionless Mana twins. Both were laying on their backs looking up to the sky almost as though in shock. Good. Maybe they'll be unfortunate enough for a goblin to run their way. Dylan huffed a breath in tense anticipation as he looked ahead of him and stood up. Time to wake up the camp.

"Goblins! Goblin attack! Up! Get up! Goblins are on us!," He screamed in his loudest voice, snatching a left out shield as he ran past the next tent and began to bash the butt of Allistor's axe against it to create as much noise as he could. "Up! We are under attack! Arm yourselves! Look lively! Goblins! Movement! I want movement!". Immediately, shouts of panic polluted the air as sorcerers tumbled out of bed and hurried to look for the source of the frightful noise. Dylan continued to run past the rows of tents, shrieking his warning and was relieved when some quickly gathered what was going on and darted to do as he said. He eventually got to the centre of the camp where he saw Macduffian dazedly stumble out of his tent with his frightened son clutching the hem of his trousers.

"Kirkland! What is the meaning of all this racket?!" The chief yawped and looked around bewilderedly as armed sorcerers came running to his tent to get an explanation of what the devil was happening. The crowd grew and Dylan made himself as tall as he could.

"Macduffian, we only have minutes. The goblins will attack tonight, we have to prepare to defend ourselves!" He stated and there was a chorus of dismayed cries of horror behind him. The look of disorientation was slapped off Macduffian's face and replaced with a stern one.

"You are certain of this?" Macduffian asked completely serious, his hand reached and pulled his son closer to his person. Dylan grimly nodded, tightening his grip on Allistor's axe.

"If we aren't ready for them, we'll be swiped out". Macduffian closed his eyes as he exhaled, steeling his resolve before he raised his voice to address the crowd.

"We are under attack. Ready yourselves and go to the southern end of the camp. We form a line there. Hide whose too young at the northern end of the camp" Macduffian ordered and the men dispersed; some going to take their sons to the top of the camp, some instead leaving straight to the front line. Dylan stepped forward to join them when he felt a tug on his elbow. Macduffian had stopped him, looking bashful.

"Dylan. Please, I ask that you go with the children" The man quietly pleaded and Dylan blinked in shock at the request.

"But, but I'm one of your best fighters! I should be on the front lines" Dylan protested and Macduffian tightened his grip.

"That's why I'm trusting you to look after the children. If the goblins break the line, we need someone who can hold their own. Do not ask me to leave my son defenceless". Dylan opened his mouth to argue, but the look on Macduffian's face stayed him. He couldn't turn down a father who was just desperate to protect his blood. His shoulders sagged in defeat.

"I'll do it" Dylan sighed and Macduffian smiled at him with tears in his wrinkled eyes before he knelt down to speak directly to his little boy.

"Listen now Thomas. I'm going to need you to go with Dylan Kirkland here. I need you to stay close to him and the other children, he will keep you safe. An- and if you ever get separated from him, I want you to run and hide. Do you understand?" Macduffian instructed his son and the boy sniffed as he nodded sadly. It struck Dylan there and then, now different his father was to others. If it were Gisil kneeling there, he wouldn't be telling them to hide. He'd be drilling them on the weak spots in goblin armour. He'd be reminding them of their height advantage and how easily goblins were scared by fire. But most importantly, he'd be ordering them to stick together…If he was being honest with himself, Dylan knew that he would be telling Allistor to specifically keep Arthur close; it had taken him longer than Seamus to recognise that their father was grooming Allistor into a bodyguard and Dylan wasn't sure about how he felt on the subject. It was easier not to think about it…

Macduffian's son looked up at Dylan with round, scared eyes, and Dylan motioned with his head for him to follow. Around them more and more men ran to get into formation as Dylan and his protege travelled in the opposite direction, Macduffian watching as his son disappeared from sight.

* * *

The Elder Grove, The Angel Temple's Entrance

Away from the all noise and the panic. Somewhere away where the only movement was the lonely wind that blew through the long grass on the hill, stood the chief of the Red Cloaks with the stone arched entrance of the angel temple to his back. With only the stars to accompany him, Marca Grand waited for Cornelius Manta to bring the key to unlocking the temple.

Some time passed before Cornelius' lean form emerged from the trees, dragging who Grand could only assume was Arthur Kirkland. Grand's stomach knot tightened even as he thought what they had done. If Gisil Kirkland ever known out they kidnapped his son, the son he was most protective over, he wouldn't just beat the crap out of him. He'd destroy the whole clan just to make an example of them. He shivered at the vivid imagery his mind conjured as Cornelius strode up the hill .

When he drew nearer with Arthur, Grand's eyebrows furrowed as he observed the hypnotised youth. The lad was in a deep trance of some sort. His eyes were glassy, unfocused, and he swayed slightly on the spot where he stood. Guilt pricked at his sides again.

"How'd you do it?" He asked, half not wanting to know the answer and Cornelius smiled at him knowingly as he reached into his pocket and withdrew the Hypnos tablet. Sick horror raised the hairs on the back of Grand's head.

"What- What, have you done" Grand uttered appalled, struggling to resist the urge to vomit up the small ration he had eaten while waiting. What Manta had done was taboo, a twisted, morbid combination of blood magic and runic binding. This, this was too much. Cornelius scoffed and gripped the entranced Arthur by the chin.

"It's a little late to be growing a conscious now, don't you think?" He leered as he jerked Arthur's head to him and Grand winced and looked away uncomfortably. Gods, this was harder than he could of ever anticipated. Seeing the lad…who had done nothing wrong other than be himself, be forcibly kidnapped to be used as an ends to a mean. It- what if it were Sorcha in his place? Is that what it would take for him to stop this?

"We've come to far to turn back now. I'll remind you, that this is what you wanted. With the temple's secrets, we'll be legends!" Cornelius egged on and Grand could only give a half heartened nod. Manta was right about one thing, it was too late to turn back.

The entrance had cracked open the second Arthur's blood had been smeared against it; a jagged mouth with a splitting, twisted smile as the raiders traversed into it's cavernous throat. The entrance chamber was vast and majestic, with thick columns of carved ivory and pearl tiled floors. Decorating the towering, circular walls was a mosaic mural on the history of the Angels of Gaia; colourful art depicting: their birth, their Archangel's rise, Seraph's crowning, and finishing with the closing of Heaven's and Hell's Gates. Fantastical events that were legend to the race of men and while the masterpiece did indeed convey a wondrous sense of awe, it was shame about the feathery cobwebs that now clung to it.

Grand gave out a low impressed whistle as he admired the last scene of the mural, below written in golden letters were the perplexing words:

And when the blood of Heaven and Earth is split among the innocent and the guilty, both Angel and Demon will walk the ground again.

At the centre of the chamber, laying under a thick coating of dust was a colossal dragon skull. In the hollow of it's eye socket, a wicked knife was plunged. There was distinctly something off about the knife, almost as though reality distorted around it; light fractured and bent unnaturally. Grand neared the skull hesitantly, a tremble to his hand as it reached for the ebony handle.

"Don't!" Cornelius cried from behind him, but it was too late. A brilliant, white light filled the chamber and forced Manta and Grand to shield their eyes for fear of being blinded. When the light died down, the pair lowered their arms and froze when a voice resounded inside their minds.

"Who dare disturb my temple?" A female's sharp voice thundered and the chamber shook and rattled from the presence's power. Grand's tongue grew thick in his mouth as he saw at the knife in fear, while Manta stumbled forward with a trembling lip of amazement.

"O-oh! Angel! Hear my-" Cornelius began with an exaggerated air of grace, only to be shut down by the alien presence.

"Do not presume. Do not judge what you cannot know. I am Vorpal, Archangel blade of Aiyana of Gaia and slayer of the jabberwocky. I see into your heart, I see your greed. You desire power here" The knife stated in broken tongue, and Grand decided to throw caution to the wind.

"Aye, we desire power. What must we do to obtain it?" He asked aloud and silence followed after. Neither Grand nor Manta could of known that it was in this moment of silence, that the Angel blade finally realised why the aura of the third silent party felt so familiar. It was smothered true, but the distinct rawness of it's potency had no equal; the might of a Seraph. It couldn't be, and yet, it could only be. The lost Seraph prince, Victoria of Gaia's miracle child, whom had been forced into hiding among men during the attempted coup of Heaven. Their Seraph had been…different after that day. The closest thing that could come to describing it was heartbreak. Oh! Imagine the joy it would bring to the heavens if their prince were to return! With this line of thought, the angelic blade devised a scheme to be rid of the gluttonous men and rescue it's Seraph prince.

"I will grant the power that you seek. But, I ask for one thing in exchange. The boy" The Vorpal blade proposed, it's cunning tone perfectly concealed as it's words settled upon the listeners. Grand and Manta looked to the hypothesised Arthur in stupefaction, unable to conjure any plausible reason as to why a mythical weapon would want the Kirkland. Grand glanced to Cornelius and saw him in return mouth the words 'blood sacrifice?'.

"Agreed. So please, grant us your power" Manta called out to the blade and a vibrating sound that could of been mistaken for a laugh filled the chamber.

"I did not say, it was for both of you. Only one will pass". A still, pregnant silence took the chamber. Cornelius Manta's hand slid onto his razor's handle, his smile malicious as he spun to attack. But he wasn't swift enough. Grand had already lunged, his fingers reaching for Manta's neck.

* * *

The Sorcerer Camp, The Northern end of the Camp

Thud! Another dropped. With the tiredness of an old man, Dylan Kirkland climbed off the fresh corpse of the goblin; the front of his tunic now dyed red with a new addition of blood that wasn't his own. Every muscle trembled with fatigue as he got to his feet and stumbled a distance back. That was the tenth, the tenth goblin that had come at them and he had singlehandedly killed. Dylan wasn't sure how much longer it would go on. As he had fought, the older ones of the group had watched him with horrified fascination, while the younglings had hidden their eyes. It was likely their first time ever witnessing any real combat. Dylan looked wearily back over to them and gave a shaky nod to tell them he could go on, before he turned back to retrieve his knife from between the goblin's ribs; yanking it out with a sickening, wet squelch.

An earsplitting scream from one of the little ones caused Dylan to snap his head to see a stray goblin charging directly for the children from behind the line of tents. Shit. The Kirkland bolted for the creature and lunged, tackling it roughly to the hard ground. He grunted as they rolled, Allistor's axe knocked out of his hand as pulled his arm back to plunge his knife down into the goblin's pot belly, before wrenching it back to repeat the lethal action. Gore spurted out from the new stab wounds and the goblin shrieked in agony. It wildly lashed it's own blade out and the sharp edge slashed against Dylan's forehead to cut deep. Hot, thick blood spilled down and ran into Dylan's eyes to blind him. He cried out and the goblin raised the knife again, when a spearhead sprouted from it's chest.

Gasping for breath, Dylan stared up with one closed eye as the goblin wetly choked on it's own blood and rolled off him only to reveal his saviour was Sorcha Grand, drenched in glistening sweat, blood and mud. The chief's daughter met his eyes as Dylan stared back with a look of utter bafflement, his mouth opening and closing repeatably before his brain kickstarted again and he shakily rose to his feet.

"I know yo-" Sorcha apologetically began, but never finished as Dylan's fist slammed into her jaw to send her staggering backwards. Dylan's shoulders heaved up and down in rage as she came to a halt and held her hand to ask him to stop.

"I deserve that" She admitted as she rubbed the bashed jawbone. Dylan's eyes ignited with blazing Greek-fire.

"The hell you do! You deserve worse, you bitch!" He spat at her and looked around in confusion when he heard the heavy footfall of a stampede. From the northern forest boundary, the Red Cloaks burst forth from the trees. The spear wielding sorcerers stormed past Dylan and Sorcha to descend upon the goblin army like hell fire.

"Oh. So they decided to show then? Wonder what changed their mind" Dylan sarcastically remarked as Sorcha waved over a squadron of men to escort Dylan's group of children.

"Perhaps they seek forgiveness" She soberly replied and Dylan snorted while he focused on closing the cut on his head, the blood already crusting and sticking to his hair.

"You'll be lucky if Allistor doesn't kill you on sight" He stated and Sorcha let out a deep exhale. A grim, tired expression on her dirty face.

"I have to try" She whispered when in the corner of her eye, she saw Dylan sway on his feet and spun to catch him as he slumped forward.

* * *

The Elder Grove, The Temple of the Vorpal Blade

The world spun as Arthur Kirkland's eyes cracked open. He gave out a weak groan at the feeling of high pressure in his head, and groggily tried to get his brain to work again. It took a few seconds and when reality came back, Arthur put together he was being carried with his head hanging upside down. He wasn't in the forest anymore with Seamus, Dylan and Cornelius- Arthur's frame stiffened when his last memory of Manta came flooding back. The tablet! It had done something to him and now he was… Arthur squinted at the blurred pale shape against the grey floor (the ceiling from his point of view), and choked in horror when his vision focused to unveil Cornelius Manta laying lifeless, staring at him with dead, glassy eyes and a thin trail of blood running down the side of his gaping mouth. His movement must of alerted his carrier to his wakefulness as when Arthur looked up, his terrified stare meet Marca Grand's.

"You're awake. Good, this'll all be over soon" The chief of the Red Cloak remarked in a disturbingly light tone, his black eyes seemingly distant and deluded. No, Arthur had seen those eyes before. He was in the arms of a madman. He had to get away, now. He would not die like Cornelius had, alone in this horrid tomb. Arthur twisted his body out of Grand's grip and backed away, his breath started to shake when he saw the devilishly large knife in his hand.

"You're mad" He accused in a quivering voice and he couldn't stop his eyes from unwillingly jumping back to Cornelius' body. Grand took a step forward with his arms held open, the warped giddy expression still on his face.

"I'm not insane. I will be the most powerful man in the world once I give you to the Angel and receive her power in return" He smiled and he took another step, closing the distance between him and Arthur.

"No. No, I won't" Arthur said without breath and his throat closed when Grand's air darkened to a dangerous one.

"You don't have a choice," Grand ominously stated as he reached for him. Arthur turned on his heel and fled down the hallway, deeper into the temple. Behind him, Grand's manic laughed followed, "You have no where to run Arthur!". Arthur ignored him as he sprinted to the end where a heavy set of double doors stood. He threw them open to crash into the next chamber and tripped up in surprise when his feet splashed in a shallow pool of water. He paused to properly examine his surroundings.

The chamber he had entered circular and towering, with it's most striking feature being the gigantic statue of a beautiful woman; her upper torso reaching down to the very bottom where a deep pool of water rippled and her head brushing the domed ceiling. Clear tears fell down her smooth cheeks into the shallow pool below from closed eyes. The woman was posed with her two palms loosely open. The shallow pool Arthur stood in was actually a raised platform of sorts that was only a few metre's below the statue's hand; the water that collected there gently overflowed to drop into the deeper pool. And, despite the lack of sunlight, vines and trees sprouted from the chamber walls in the rough intimation of a stairway.

Arthur narrowed his eyes as he stared up at the mosaic tiled ceiling in the patterns of celestial constellations, and could of cried in relief when he saw a faint beam of moonlight illuminate a hole hidden there. His escape route! Grand's voice inaudibly called out from the hallway again and as Arthur heard his footsteps draw nearer, he called upon his magic. He channelled it into the liquid below him, and the water rose, crashed and froze against the door on his command. The thick ice now forming a temporary barrier between him and Grand.

"That won't last long" Arthur muttered to himself when there was a loud bang as Grand shoved against the door and the ice splintered under the force. He had to move, now. Arthur ran to the lowest tree that grew out of the wall, leaping high to grab onto a branch and swung himself up into it. The wood groaned under his weight as he jumped to the next, inching his way higher and higher to the top of the chamber. He was one tree away from freedom when his ice barrier finally shattered and Grand burst into the chamber with his knife flashing.

"Do not let him escape!" The Vorpal blade's voice screeched inside Grand's mind and with it, it poured it's angelic power into Grand to take root. The addictive power festered inside Grand like a parasitic fungi, corrupting and contorting his mind into a suggestible clay doll. A sadistic grin stretched across the chief's face as he raised the knife to point it at Arthur. The vines which scaled the chamber walls became animated and like olive green snakes, began to creep towards Arthur, ensnaring and tightening around his ankles. Arthur went low to snap the vines when his balance over shot and he fell out of the tree.

He cried out as he plummeted and braced for the impact when the vines snapped out like whips to catch him mid-air; entangling around his limps and binding them together.

"Stop! Please!" He gasped when they constricted around his chest, squeezing tightly over his hammering heart. Grand looked up at him and directed the knife at the statue's open palm. The vines shifted and followed his directions, carrying the squirming Arthur over until he was over the hand.

"With an Angel's blade, I will be a god among men! And all she wants is you" Grand declared and Arthur's heart jumped to his mouth when the vines dropped him. He smacked his head as he landed hard on the stone and there was a gritty groan as the statue's fingers loosely closed over him to create a stone cage. Arthur found himself struggling to breathe as he pushed against the immoveable digits, sweat oozing from every pore from the useless effort.

"Stab the statue's heart, return me to my master!" The blade encouraged, when reason prompted Grand to finally question the weapon's words. Why should he return the blade? It was his power, wasn't it? He had fulfilled his part of their bargain, it was time for them to deliver on their's.

"I've given you what you want. Now give me the power you promised!" He shouted aloud, looking insane to Arthur who did not know he was conversing with the Angel blade. The blade's strange, cruel laugh resounded again.

"You are little monkey that climb tree, and think himself tall. Ha! As if a mere mortal could wield an Archangel's blade" It mocked and Grand's knuckles turned white as he tightened his grip on the knife.

"You lied," Grand growled and the the blade laughed at his anger. "if you won't give, I will take it". The laughter died and was replaced by a chilled, menacing air.

"Then you will not leave this temple alive" The Vorpal blade promised and the whole chamber rumpled as the trees Arthur had climbed, began to expand and stretch; the trunks swelled and their branches became arms and their roots feet. As the trees came to life and climbed down to attack, Grand roared his challenge and all the while, Arthur helplessly watched from his prison. Feeling way over his head and wishing with all his heart for help to come.

* * *

Outside the Angel Temple.

As the lone moon sank in the pitch-black sky, the twilit monk and three watchmen disturbed the quiet of the forest as they came to the entrance of the angel temple. The gateway was empty with chapped pieces of rumble laid on the ground.

"Grand and Manta must of already gone in" Seamus suggested and looked down when Sadrik came to his side and held out a long, narrow item to him. He gave the leader of the Watchmen a funny look as he accepted the gift to discover it was a Jasmine-Lotus tanto.

"I noticed you don't have one. Couldn't well send you without a weapon" Sadrik revealed and chuckled at the sorcerer's comic expression.

"I'm the son of the greatest hunter in the world and a sorcerer trained by the oldest, wisest masters of a thousand year old monastery. I'm pretty sure that makes me a weapon" Seamus countered and Sadrik just made him close his fingers around the weapon.

"Just take it. Allistor would kill me if you got hurt on my watch". Seamus gave in with a grateful nod, tucking the tanto into his belt at his back as one of Sadrik's men lit a flare, following closely after him as he stepped through into the temple. The red light of their flare illuminated the first chamber to cast long shadows. Seamus agitatedly scanned the spacious hall for Arthur and his stomach fell when what he saw were dark spots of blood that led away into a farther hallway. He grabbed the flare off the watchman, ignoring Sadrik's calls as he followed the tracks. The spots became a thick smear and at the end of the trail, Seamus gagged when he saw Cornelius Manta's corpse at the centre of a stinking pool of blood.  
Beside his head, fragments of wood were broken which Seamus concluded was the tablet that Manta had used on Arthur. Which meant, Arthur was conscious and with Grand. Behind him, one of Sadrik's men stepped forward and turned the body over, taking a moment to examine it before straightening up to address Sadrik.

"Multiple stab wounds, died of blood loss" He reported with professional decisiveness.

"He and this Marca Grand must of turned on each other" Sadrik deduced and looked to Seamus when the man's breath heavily hitched in panic, his eyes wide with a look of heightened hysteria.

"Arthur! Answer me! ARTHUR!" Seamus bellowed as he stumbled over his feet into a sprint towards the hallway where sounds of a fight echoed.

"Seamus!" Arthur's voice weakly called back and Seamus poured his magic into his legs like fuel onto a fire for a burst of speed that launched him to the end doorway. The scene before him was chaos. Three humanoid tree giants clung to walls and swung at a dodging Grand who wielded a fearsome knife. As the four battled, Arthur was staring in wait for his brother to arrive after hearing his voice. When Seamus skidded into the chamber, he pushed his arm through the statue's fingers and waved wildly to him.

"Over here! Seamus!" Arthur shouted and Seamus' head snapped up, a look of alarm slapped his face.

"Are you hurt?! I'll get you down!" Seamus cried back and ran into the centre of the room. He braced mid-stride and jumped high to grab onto the statue's ring finger. With effort, he clambered up like a monkey onto the top of the loose fist and tried to pry apart the stiff digits.

"No. I'm fine, but Manta…" Arthur replied inside as he attempted to help, but the stiff appendages would not move.

"Was murdered. I saw on the way in. Damn! These bloody things won't give!," Seamus stubbornly relented and took a step back to look for another way. His gaze went down to the water. Hmm…

"I might be able to cut you out with the water" He stated with a crack of his knuckles and Arthur gave a grim nod before his pupil's jumped left and went wide.

"Seamus! The statue!" Arthur cried and Seamus was forced to flatten on his front as a giant stone hand nearly splattered him against the wall like a fly. The woman statue was very much alive now, her titanic face was openly glaring down at Seamus, and she brought her hand back around for another swing. On the platform, Sadrik and his men had arrived and their jaws dropped at the sight before them. The first to get their head together was Sadrik and he looked up to where Seamus and Arthur were.

"Fan out men! The safe retrieval of Arthur Kirkland takes highest priority," The leader of the Watchmen commanded and his followers snapped back into action, darting away to avoid the tree giant that turned it's attention onto them. "Seamus! Arthur! What the hell is this?".

Seamus shook his head in confusion and at his feet Arthur shouted up to him. "It's the knife! Grand had it after he killed Manta. It might be possessed!".

"Got it. Sadrik! Help me get close so I can exorcise it!" Seamus yelled his instructions as he flung himself off the hand, narrowly dodging the statue's second sweep and rolled upon impact on the platform. The statue's hand clipped it's own wrist of the hand that held Arthur, and the stone gave a worrying crack as a large chip was broken off. Sadrik came to Seamus' side and together, they closed in on Grand. The chief glanced over his shoulder as he sensed the approaching presences and flashed them a raving smile, slicing off one of his attacker's branches before spinning to face them.

"It's no demon blade boy. Those hellish fiends don't have power like this. Here, have a taste!" He cackled as he waved a hand out and Seamus felt himself be yanked off his feet and thrown down to collide with one of Sadrik's men. Without a second to recover, he was wrenched backwards, his eye missing Grand's knife by inches. Sadrik pulled him behind him and banished his dual hidden blades at Grand warningly.

"I'll hold his attention, brother. You focus on grabbing the knife" The older man cooly ordered and Seamus was stricken how alike he and Allistor were. No wonder they were friends, they both gave off the 'reliable, powerful figure' vibe. Seamus got to his feet, drew his tanto and brace to dart forward when the opportunity presented itself, when two events he couldn't of anticipated happened simultaneously.

The every moment Allistor Kirkland finally arrived, stepping into the chamber to join the fray, the hand that caged Arthur snapped, and fell past the platform to plunge down into the deep pool of water below. Time seemed to slow for Seamus, his mouth opened but no words came out as shock paralysed his mind.

"Seamus!," Allistor's voice jarred him out of his daze and Seamus blinked as he felt his brother push him aside, and felt the blast of heat when he threw a fireball at the tree giant that had reached out for him. The creature of wood groaned as it burnt to ashes and Allistor's grip clamped on his shoulder to meet their eyes. "Where's Artie?!".

Arthur…Arthur. Arthur!

"Shit!" Seamus cursed as he pushed Allistor away and ran to the platform's edge. Allistor shouted him to stop but Seamus had already sprung and he nosedived down with a splash. The water hit him with enough force to knock the wind out of him and it was only his monk endurance training that stopped it; though it had no power to stop the icy temperature from sapping his strength. With no light to illuminate his surroundings, Seamus focused his magic to concentrate in his pupils and his night vision activated. The statue's fist lay at the bottom of the pool amongst tangling water weeds, a thin line of small bubbles trailed out from inside. No, oh please no.

Seamus' lungs began to ache for air as he forced himself to swim down against the pressure of the water and the added weight of his wet clothes didn't help. His hands were numb from the cold as he pulled himself to the statue's fist and near cried out when he saw Arthur's form floating limply inside. No, no no no.

"Arthur!" He telepathically screamed to his brother, and no response came back. He was already unconscious, he was already drowning. No! He- Arthur couldn't- No! It wasn't, it couldn't. He couldn't let him die here. His lungs were burning now, screaming, begging Seamus for air. The cold stole the energy from his very bones and Seamus was finding it difficult to organise his barrage of thoughts.

"Please," Seamus thought despairingly, "please. I only worshipped you for a short time but please, help me. Help my brother". No sooner had Seamus finished his prayer, all his senses went to black. He was alone, and the world was gone. A deep chuckled rumbled his new abyss.

"One is all, and all is one. Divine intervention come with a price" The cold, cold presence vibrated to cause, all molecules, all atoms to buzz in a harmonising chorus.

"Whatever it is, I will pay it" Seamus answered with steeled resolve and the god's chuckle filled the empty space again.

"The fool jumps. The scholar looks over the edge".

Seamus growled in frustration, "I don't care. If it saves my brother's life, then I'd give it a thousand times over!". Silence…

"Fate be our witness" The god announced as the deal was struck, and Seamus' spirit lurched as he was back at the bottom of the freezing chamber pool. He let go of the state in alarm when a spontaneous crack splintered the structure. The crack snapped and the whole fist shattered to pieces. Without messing a beat, Seamus shot his arm out and grabbed Arthur's motionless body, deliberately ignoring the paleness of his skin. With a firm grip around his brother's torso, Seamus wearily used the last of his useable magic and mentally chanted an ascending spell. The water rushed past them as an indivisible hook tugged Seamus upwards like a fish on a line and at long last, his head broke the surface. Sweet, sweet air rushed back down his throat, and Seamus blinked furiously to readjust his eye sight.

"Allistor. Al- argh. Allistor!," Seamus tried to shout while treading water, which was hard when he barely had air to breath with let alone shout. Deadweight in his arms, Arthur still wasn't breathing, his head flopped back and his skin was a sickly, bloodless pale colour. Seamus didn't know if his heart was even beating. "ALLISTOR! ALLISTOR! HE'S NOT BREATHING!".

* * *

"ALLISTOR! ALLISTOR! HE'S NOT BREATHING!" Seamus' voice broke through his frenzied mind. He- he was talking about Arthur. Arthur wasn't breathing. Allistor stared down at Grand's beaten, broken form beneath him, his knuckles wet with his blood. Arthur wasn't breathing. He feverishly pushed himself off the chief and ran to the edge, where there in the water below, Seamus bobbed struggling to hold Arthur up. He wasn't breathing.

His hand shot out and he telepathically lifted Seamus and Arthur, sweat trickled down his forehead from the effort. When the two were safe above the platform and Allistor dashed forward to catch them both. He nearly gave out from their combined weight and Seamus gripped his collar tight, staring at him with manic eyes.

"He's not breathing. He- His- His heart isn't beating" Seamus gasped as he fell out of his arms and collapsed to his knees, shivering uncontrollably. Allistor held Arthur in the bridal style and pressed his ear against his chest. It was silent. No. No, no no no no no. Allistor crouched, set his younger brother down, knotted his hands together, and began to furiously compress Arthur's still chest.

"Come on. C'mon, Artie. Don't die on me. Don't you dare die on me" Allistor desperately pleaded as he performed the emergency procedure their father taught him, Arthur's chest unresponsive under his pumping hands. No, he can't. No. Allistor switched positions, tilting Arthur's head up to clear his airway and pinched his nose. He deeply inhaled, pressed his lips against Arthur's blue ones and forced in the air from his lungs. No response. He did it twice before switching back to compressing the chest, his movements becoming more, and more frantic. No response came, Arthur was still dead.

"Allistor…" Sadrik cautiously spoke up, placing a hand on his old friend's shaking shoulder to stop him, only to have Allistor throw it off.

"I can't- I can't let him die. He's ma brother. He's my little Arthur. I promised, I promised I always would watch over him! Always! Always!" Allistor screamed as he put more force behind his compressions, tears welling in his eyes, ready to fall, when beneath his fingers Arthur's heart spasmed. Spring green eyes snapped open as his body jolted and he began to choke and cough; his head turned to proceed to vomit up a lung of water. Once he finished, Allistor grabbed his little brother's thin, shaking frame and pulled it to his huge one. Pressing him against him with enough force that they could have fused into one being. Allistor's hand clutched the back of Arthur's golden head as his other snaked around to encircle his waist. Holding him crushingly tight as though to anchor him from leaving them again.

"Arthur. Oh my gods, Arthur" The poor man muttered over and over like a manta before he pulled back to see the youth's pale face weakly smile up at him.

"Took you long enough," Arthur feebly whispered, the sarcastic tone barely audible under the barrage of rib rattling coughs that followed after. Allistor managed a bark of a laugh himself and reached over to pull Seamus into their embrace, pressing his forehead against theirs' as relief washed over him. His family was safe. Between them, Arthur coughed and he fought to stop his lids from closing. Allistor chuckled at the endearing display.

"It's alright laddie. Ya can rest now" He reassured and Arthur hasn't even able to finish his nod before he dropped off. Seamus helped him position Arthur so he carried him on his back as they rose and for the first time, Seamus was able to clearly see the effects of the battle. All the tree giants lay in charred or splintered pieces. Both the statue's hands were missing and a good chunk of her nose to. Away a way from them, surrounded by the Watchmen, laid Marca Grand. The Vorpal Blade plunged deep into his chest, delivering on it's promise. Grand would never leave the temple alive. Without warning, the chamber walls began to rumble and shake.

"This temple is coming down! Everyone, out now!" Sadrik took charge and everyone ran, leaping and dodging falling debris as the platform collapsed on itself; Grand's corpse and with it, the Vorpal Blade, sliding off down into the pool.

The watchmen and the Kirklands flew, through the hallway and past Cornelius and the giant skull. As they fell out of the unstable temple, the entire building gave one last groan before it collapsed, the entrance caved in to become impassable again. The new dawn's pink rays shone down, illuminating the colours of the world; the green of the grass and leaves, the blue-indigo of the twilight sky. As the last of the darkness was chased away, it's god whispered it's fatal promise to Seamus.

"The fool knots the black noose around his pale neck,  
and dreads death.  
It is the scholar, who dreads what lies after"

"What do you mean?" Seamus silently replied, but the god continued to speak, it's deep, deep voice poetic and hypnotic.

"The fool is a hanged man, and a hanged man,  
is a damned man.

The hanged are damned and hung are unsung, because deadmen tell no tales. The damned man is a lonely man, even the mother shuts the gate of her gracious garden to him.  
The lonely man is a cold man,  
abandoned by light and life,  
with only darkness to take him into the quiet limbo

Pity the fool who think he a scholar,  
Pity the fool who ties the black knot,  
and above all. Pity the fool who sees it all, understands all,  
and proceeds to do so regardless.

With those last words ringing in Seamus' mind, the god's presence slipped away. Intangible weight settled on Seamus' shoulders as he thought on Erebus' promise, and despite the glorious shining sun radiating down on them, the world seemed reversibly dim; like a blanket had been thrown over it to diminish the brilliant star's rays.

"Seamus" Arthur's small voice softly sighed and Seamus turned to see his little brother still sleeping soundly, his head resting on Allistor's broad shoulder but turned towards him.

"Seamus…," Arthur faintly spoke again, his thick eyebrows lightly frowned in sleep, "ask before you…take the last…piece". A bubbling laugh escaped from Seamus' lips and the burden that loomed over his head temporally vanished. No, it was going to be fine. It didn't matter what dark future lay ahead of him. As long as his family, the ones he loved more than anyone else, were happy, it would be enough for him.

It would be enough…

* * *

The Elder Grove, The Sorcerer Camp.

The camp was a right mess. Almost all the tents had been trampled underfoot and over on the left edge, a heap of smoking goblin corpses burnt. Those sorcerers who hadn't been badly injured were already moving out, thoroughly shaken by the experience while whose less fortunate were being attended to by the most skilled healers in the surviving tents. Allistor and company approached the largest one and pushed the flap open. Sorcerers who had fought on the front lines had suffered the worst of the goblins' blades, their bodies littered with cuts both deep and thin that were salved and bandaged. A cry rang out and Allistor saw Macduffian junior run up to him through the crowd. The plaster stuck over his left cheek moved as he grinned up at the Kirklands.

"Mister Kirkland! Mister Kirkland, mister Dylan is this way" The lad sung as he dashed off to the back of the tent, looking back to motion them to follow him. Seamus and Allistor shared a glance as they walked past the rows and rows of wounded men, both surprised to see members of the Red Cloaks among their numbers. They finally reached the back area, which appeared to be reserved, and entered to see Dylan Kirkland lying on a straw bedroll; a large scar that stretched from shoulder to shoulder now graced his body and his ankle had been fitted into a makeshift brace. All the gear he had taken into battle was set beside him, including Allistor's precious axe that still had blood and dirt on it. Allistor was about to grill him for taking it without permission when something else seized his attention away. Sorcha Grand knelt beside Dylan, her long braids swayed as she turned to see the newcomers and her black eyes widened when they met Allistor's.

"Get away from him" Allistor sinisterly growled as he instantly beelined for her, his hands full with Arthur so he predatorily pulled back his lips to bare his teeth at her. Sorcha jumped to her feet in preparation to defend herself when Dylan threw himself between her and his brother.

"She saved my life. The whole camp would of died if she hadn't brought the Red Cloaks" Dylan protested and Allistor starred his brother down, silently ordering him to step aside. After a few seconds of defiance, Dylan's shoulders fell in surrender and Allistor motioned to Seamus to take Arthur from him. Seamus cautiously did so and Allistor turned on Sorcha, his greek-fire eyes simmered with an emotion that could not solely be defined as anger.

"We hav' ta talk, alone" Allistor stated and Sorcha nodded slowly. After Seamus' reassurance that he'd watch over Dylan and Arthur, Allistor led the way outside to the hill on where his tent had stood. The tent itself was ruined but it looked as though the equipment hidden under the canvas hadn't been damaged. Well, at least that wouldn't have to be replaced. Allistor stopped and turned to examine Sorcha more closely. She had clearly been fighting, black and blue bruises and cuts decorated her arms and sides over her carved tattoos.

"Where's Manta's boys?" He spoke up and Sorcha gave a weary shrug.

"Ran during the fight. Don't ask where to, because I don't know" She answered and Allistor looked at her closely. There was no more confrontation in her, just exhaustion and a knowing sadness about her.

"He's dead, isn't he?" She asked without looking at him, wordlessly referring to her father. Allistor felt guilt gut him in the stomach when he remembered the berserk frenzy he had gone into to beat the man bloody. He was not innocent in his death.

"Yes. Sorcha, whatever was in there changed him. He murdered Manta an' tried ta kill ma brothers. The man that was ya father died in that temple".

"Absolute power, corrupts absolutely…," Sorcha quoted before she paused, "Did you kill him?". Allistor stiffened.

"Yes" He quietly confessed and Sorcha turned away to wipe her eyes. There was a still silence between them before Allistor broke it.

"Why did ya come back?" He asked and the woman that had broken his heart took in a deep breath to sigh.

"Redemption," She replied before giving a bitter laugh, "though nothing I do will ever be enough in your eyes. Even if I did save your brother's life".

"Ya nearly killed them"

"And you killed my father" Sorcha bit back and Allistor cringed at the cruel reminder.

"It was mercy" He softly justified, sounding half heartened even to his own ears and Sorcha let out another bitter laugh.

"Gods. We should just do this the old fashioned way and have a duel to the death. Be done with it all". Allistor gave his own bark of a laugh. She was still beautiful, all the things that had attracted her to him were still there. But Allistor felt no attraction towards her. The pain of betrayal was still fresh, it's edge still too sharp for entertainment of the idea of forgiveness.

"What will you do now?" He asked and Sorcha crossed her arms insecurely, a line formed between her brows.

"The Red Cloaks will not take a woman for a chief. There will be an election for the position, and I- well, I suppose I'll go it alone" She explained, the grief plain. Allistor shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he made a important decision.

"In tha north at the bottom of the floating Hallelujah mountains, there is a tribe of people that live alongside tha ice bears an' protect the Twilit Monastery. Me Ma is tha chief of that tribe, so y'know if ya ever get tired of goin' it alone an' ya need a home…" He trailed off and Sorcha looked at him gratefully.

"Maybe I will," She offered him a small, sad smile before she turned to properly face him. Allistor thought she might try to touch him and he readied himself to stop her when she surprised him. She pressed her index and middle finger over her lips, the gesture of deepest respect that a sorcerer could convey to another.

"Goodbye Allistor Kirkland, son of Gisil Kirkland. May the stars watch over you. May the wind blow against your face and may the sun always be on your back. May you be blessed with the happiness you deserve" She spoke softly before turning without another word to walk into the forest, away Allistor and away from her life. Allistor watched as she disappeared from sight.

"With the happiness you deserve eh?" He laughed ironically to himself when a familiar welcomed presence drew close. The infamous leader of the Watchmen threw an arm around his old friend's shoulders and reached into his uniform pocket to retrieve a silver flask that he pushed into Allistor's hand.

"You, my friend, look like hell and in need of a drink" Sadrik stated with a clap on his back and Allistor chuckled at how well Sadrik knew him, probably better than he knew himself.

"Screw you," Allistor chimed and the two laughed together, the kinship of childhood rushing back. Their laughter slowed to chuckles as they watched orange streaks blend in the sky. "Sadrik…thank you for helpin' Seamus an' Artie when I couldn't".

Sadrik tutted at Allistor's serious tone and pinched his cheek to cause the Scot to jump and protest. He wriggled out of the hold and backed off a distance.

"I'm serious! If Seamus had gone in alone… I don't know what would of happened ta him an' Arthur". Sadrik took in a deep breath and placed a hand on Allistor's shoulder to pull him into an embrace.

"Allistor, you are dear to me. For you, there's nothing in this world I wouldn't do," Sadrik comforted, holding the contact a second longer before he pulled away and slowly rolled Allistor's chin with a fist, "Now, what to check in with your brothers before we get drunk off our heads?". Allistor cracked a smile.

"Oh hell yeah".

* * *

Two days later…

"But do you have to leave now?"

"Now's a good time as any"

"But you were literally dead but a few days ago! Your heart wasn't beating!"

"Oh Seamus, that was in the past" Arthur waved away his brother's argument with one hand while he finished packing his effects with the other. Seamus stood behind him with his arms folded, a stern disapproving look on his face.

"Arthur I really don't think you should leave so soon" He pressed again and looked to the entrance when Allistor stormed in, dripping wet from the downpour outside. Their new little tent was posted just on the outskirts of the fae kingdom Avalon, though it's magical boundaries did nothing to ward away the terrible weather.

"That is tha last time I ever go hunting with Sadrik, tha cheeky git! 'It's a whiff of cloud' He said, 'It'll pass' He said," Allistor raged, throwing down his bow and shook his fist in the direction he had come from, "Well it wasn't a fuckin' 'whiff of cloud' was it!". The Scot sighed with sudden exhaustion before he spotted the packed bag on Arthur's shoulder and his and Seams' tense body language.

"What's goin' on here?" Allistor demanded and Arthur saw Seamus cross his arms triumphantly and smirk at him. Shit.

"I was, uh- just leaving" Arthur blurted quickly, inching slowly back towards the back entrance. He wasn't subtle enough as Allistor narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"Oh aye? Leavin' for where?" The eldest Kirkland asked with a deliberate tone of sarcasm, the rain continued to relentlessly hammer the sides of the tent. On the left, Dylan rolled over and sat up from his nap, a trail of drool running down his chin.

"You're leaving Arthur?!" He dazedly exclaimed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he tried to stand while half asleep. Arthur sighed and opened his mouth to stutter for an answer.

"Well, yeah. I have go at some point!" Was all Arthur could come up with and he jumped in shock when Allistor's hand patted his head; his hand was warm and comforting in it's weight.

"Doesn't have ta be now though, does it? Dylan's on the mend and I heard from Sadrik about somethin' that might interest ya" Allistor baited and saw Arthur's eyes light up in interest despite himself.

"Aye?"

'Archery tournament. Tha Blackburns are hostin', and are you gonna try an' tell me we aren't going ta show 'em up at their own bash?" Allistor devilishly smirked, knowing he'd got him when a impish smile split onto Arthur's face at the thought.

"The Blackburns, you say?" He remarked airily with a click of his tongue and cocked his head. Allistor knowingly nodded, Dylan rose and he and Seamus came together so that they all stood in a circle, each with identical green eyes that held a wicked mischievous glint to them. Dylan stuck his hand out into the centre.

"Who's with me?". Seamus smirked at the cheesy action but put his hand in anyway.

"I'm in" He said and looked to wink at Arthur, who stepped forward and smacked his hand on top of Seamus'.

"Bring it on" Arthur challenged and all three brothers turned to Allistor. The eldest Kirkland scoffed and brought his massive hand down to complete the pact.

"Let's do this" Allistor roared and all three threw up their hands skyward in celebration to chant and sing for their coming victory. Brothers united, then and forever.

But oh, how could they known? How could they have known that at that moment, the Emperor had began the starting phase of his terrible purge. How could they have known that even as they laughed and danced, their brother sorcerers were being relentlessly hunted like animals…

How could any of them known?

* * *

One week later…

Seamus watched his youngest brother run over to the transportation gate and rest his palms against it's stone surface to cause the gate to hum as it activated. From his back, he heard Dylan chuckle and take the bag he carried from him along with Allistor's as he pasted them. He jogged over to Arthur and dumped them at the base of the gate before he pulled the blond into an unsuspecting head-lock to tousle his already messy hair. The affectionate sight could of almost made him forget the fact that they were being chased by the Empire.

"Quite the trip" He remarked with a smile as he gazed at the humming transportation gate, the runes glowing as magic flowed through them, "This will take us to the Capital aye?".

"That's the plan, laddie" Allistor confirmed as he strolled past him to catch the pleasant breeze on his face. Seamus stared at his brothers, flicking back from one face to the next in a cycle. He could not explain the sudden urge, nor why it felt like it was the most important thing in the world. But it was, and then, Seamus realised why.

There was an indivisible, weightless, but undeniable grip enclosed around his throat and Erebus' promise rang clear in his ears.

The fool is a hanged man.

And Seamus knew he was going to die. His noose had finally tightened, and now Death had come to pull the lever to drop him. Pity the fool who ties the black knot.

"Ready ta go, Seamus?" Allistor's voice asked aloud and Seamus opened his mouth to scream, to warn him, to tell him that he was sorry and he loved them and-

Thud.

"Seamus?".

* * *

Seamus watched Allistor slowly turn around to look at him, watched as his pupil's shrink when they saw the red arrow that was now lodged in his dripping, bloody throat. Seamus watched as an outsider as his own body fell dead to the ground, blood continued to violently spurt from his gaping windpipe. He felt cold, and alone. The world was beginning to grow dim around him and the noises dissolved to silence until Seamus could barely see his family anymore. A colder presence than his materialised behind him.

"Abandoned by light and life, with only darkness to take him into the quiet limbo" Seamus' hollow voice quoted, echoing in fragments. Erebus did not laugh now; he was not cruel. But instead placed a strong, ebony hand on Seamus' spectral shoulder,and the former colours he had had in life flashed for a brief, bittersweet moment. Seamus did nothing to stop himself as he felt his humanoid form evaporate into it's primeval state. The god of darkness now held a dark blue, flame that gently bobbed at the centre of his palm. Without a sound, the smoking soul sank below into the dark skin, and with that it's light was gone.

Erebus closed his fingers over his palm and felt the small, but potent power of the soul within. A truly wondrous creation on his sister's part, and it was his. He had accomplished the first step of his preparation. The soul of Seamus Kirkland, critical to it's execution. It's worth not in the physical power it itself held, but rather, it's paramount relationship with Gaia's White Queen and grandchild. Brother Tartus thought it clever to have game with sister Gaia, where piece would clash against piece. He was a fool, and Gaia to for playing along with it. Erebus allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction as he summoned the shadows to carry him back into his realm.

The scholar would know, that there were other, subtler ways to influence a war.


End file.
